


Hapless Queer Avengers and the Time of the Odinsleep

by bluestalking, feverbeats



Series: Hapless Queer Avengers [4]
Category: Avengers (Comic), Marvel (Movies), Thor (2011), Thor (Comics)
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, F/F, F/M, Genderqueer Character, LGBTQ Character, M/M, Multi, Other, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-20
Updated: 2012-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-03 21:16:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 32
Words: 82,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/386054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluestalking/pseuds/bluestalking, https://archiveofourown.org/users/feverbeats/pseuds/feverbeats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Right," Tony says. "So, Loki, want to tell the team what they're in for? This is your show, after all."</p><p> </p><p>  <i>In which Loki learns about friendship, Victor learns to share, and the Avengers decide to more or less kill the king of the gods.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. trying to be good makes loki uncomfortable

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS (PLEASE READ): THE MAIN PLOT OF THIS ARC IS REVENGE FOR PAST RAPE/INCEST. Also includes: Consensual explicit queer sex of several varieties, kink, PTSD, dubcon, gender stuff, mental illness, confronting abusers, great big feelings, alcohol abuse.
> 
> What Happened In Part Three:
> 
> Bucky talks to a lot of Avengers from the comfort of Hank's lab - Loki pays Bucky a visit in the form of a wolf - Tony doesn't die, although Bucky tries to kill him - Clint and Jan think something is wrong with Loki's past - Thor really doesn't want to think about it - Nick Fury is bad for Tony's health - it is suggested that Thor do some research - Thor discovers his family are monsters - Bucky gets fixed up - Thor goes to see about his sibling - Thor and Loki might be sort of okay - Thor and Loki want to overthrow Odin

Thor gets up early the next day, although late enough that he can be sure Loki's had some rest. Then he fetches Loki from the embassy and brings him to Jan's mansion.

He presses the bell, hoping she's home. This is really an issue for the team, and for Tony, but Thor still isn't sure what he's allowed to bring Tony in on.

"This is a terrible idea," Loki mutters at his shoulder. He's male today, and has dressed down in some hard-to-pinpoint manner that makes him seem less likely than usual to spear everyone to death with icicles. He _feels_ like a blister that’s just been bled, no longer pressing, limp and relieved, but still painful and tender and an unwell shape. He does not know what he is supposed to do or be to make Thor’s plan work. He does not know how much he needs to lie, or how much he needs to bare.

"Jan likes you," Thor assures him. "She wanted me to let you know that it's all right to be blue."

Loki freezes, and has to force himself out of his tension.

"How sweet," he says dubiously. "Is she blue often?"

"No," Thor says firmly, "but the X-Men are, and she likes the X-Men." He nudges Loki with his elbow. "In case it was unclear, I don't care that you're half Jotun." He's in much better spirits after coming home to Bruce.

Loki gropes for an answer, but the door flies open and a young woman says, "Hey! Thor! Oh, _look_ who you _brought."_

"Oh," Loki says, slightly pale. "I remember you. I thought you were smaller."

Thor puts his hand on Loki's shoulder and says, "Hello, Jan. May we come in?"

Jan gives this scenic display of affection the once-over and says, "Sure, yeah, as long as little bro isn't here to kill me."

Loki scowls.

"He's promised to be good," Thor says, which isn't entirely true. "We need to discuss something with you, and I wasn't sure if Tony..." He shrugs and steps inside, not really wanting to think about it.

Loki sidles in after him. His eyes, Jan thinks, are _huge._ He's also not hissing and spitting and attacking everything, which makes a majorly weird change from the last time they were in the same place. She shuts the door and sticks out her hand.

"Hey," she says. "I'm Jan. In this country, we shake hands when we meet. I don't know if you know."

Thor thinks it's possible he made a bad impression on behalf of everyone in his culture. "Loki knows," he sighs. "We aren't all...like me."

Loki looks at Thor and then at Jan and then slowly puts his hand out. Jan grabs it between both of hers.

"And I know who you are," she says cheerfully. "You look a lot better than last time I saw you. I'm glad you're not instantly deciding to crush me like an insect this time."

Loki seems to get slightly smaller and slightly bigger at the same time, like a cat bristling its fur. 

Thor smiles at both of them encouragingly. "Anyhow," he says valiantly, "we've come to discuss our next move. Loki's and mine. And the team's, if you want to be involved."

"Huh!" Jan says. "Well obviously you're right and Tony would need to know that, but--hey, remember that room with the chairs? Let's get into that room with the chairs. I hate standing unnecessarily in foyers, it's like asking business to never get done. God, so many of my friends spend so much time at parties doing that. Know what I mean?"

There is not much space, with this woman, for anyone else to speak. It's vexing. This is a tiny mortal and Loki almost killed her before, and she is treating him as though—but he's not just _nice_ now because he had one chat with his idiot brother, and he could still—

Loki has to stop thinking there, though, because it hurts to realize he's not sure of who he is. Nothing in him for a long time back believes he'd ever let himself be in this situation, tugged around by Thor to be conversationally prodded by enemies who refuse to be offended. It is too quiet and too easy and all the rage at the back of him is leaping up like flames and not understanding why there is nothing here to burn. Most of him still doesn't think this is real.

Thor leads Loki into the room with the chairs and offers Loki the comfiest one. "This is a good chair," he confides a little desperately. He thinks this is going well. _Maybe._

"I'm not an invalid," Loki snaps.

_Maybe not._

"Yeah, but you kind of are," Jan says. "Also that totally is a good chair."

Thor casts a worried glance at Jan, but there really isn't a way to make her stop talking. Loki sits.

"So," Thor says, settling in the chair next to him. "We are discussing moving against my father."

Jan is watching Loki. Loki is watching both of them, a cat out of countenance. It's fascinating. Jan really hopes it doesn't mean he's about to blow up. She really wishes she had a little, like, context for why he's being all semi-docile at Thor's side all of a sudden.

"So, did you basically just figure out that Thor is like, the one member of your family who isn't a total creep?" she asks Loki. "Because I think that would make me feel a lot better too."

Loki stares at her. What kind of response is that? It is, Jan thinks, like trying to communicate with a June bug.

"Did he fix you or just shut off _all your emotions?"_ she asks.

"Jan," Thor says quickly. He glances at Loki. "We just had a talk. I think we patched some things up. And...well, what you said, too." He wonders if it might actually be helpful that Jan isn't treating Loki like he's about to break.

Loki doesn’t know. Victor is easy to talk to, but it’s all in broad motions, in peaks and depths he understands. Loki can't imagine Victor talking to this girl; at the moment, he can't imagine talking to her either. She is half silly and foreign, and half too like one of the girls Thor brought around when he was trying to be _unlike Fandral_. He'd always been a bit nervous around those girls. There is no reason for him to trip on his tongue over _this_ one, but he’s doing it anyway.

"It's very new," he says awkwardly. Being something like sane. He sounds angry. He isn't sure if he's angry or not.

"No one's saying we all have to be friends," Thor says, half pleading. "But if the Avengers are willing to help, I would accept that help. Bruce is in agreement, anyhow. I know I should talk to Tony..."

"One thing at a time, dude," Jan tells Thor. She's still got her attention on Loki. "Listen up. If you decide you're still evil and start fucking with me and my friends again, we're going to kick your _ass."_ She shrugs. "If you're not, though, that's cool. I'm pretty sure I can still find you kind of terrifying and impressive and devilishly attractive if you embrace your shitty childhood and allow us to be friends."

Loki colors. "You are joking," he says.

"Nope!" says Jan.

"She's never joking when she says things like that," Thor says helpfully. He shoots Jan a grateful look.

"I _wasn't always,"_ Loki starts, but he doesn't know why he would explain himself to this girl. Except that he told Thor he would show them he was good. He's not sure he can do what he told Thor he _would_ do. Whatever Thor has done to him, it seems to have put all of Loki’s artifice out of reach. It is raw and horrible. Loki hates Thor very much.

Jan flaps a hand at him. "Listen," she says. "I probably know more about you than I should rightly know, but as far as I'm concerned, you have a legit excuse for being a real crazy-cakes. If that makes you eccentric awkward eye candy when you're on our side, I am so down with it."

"Eye-candy," Thor mouths, feeling about as thrown-off as Loki looks.

"Ohmygod Asgardians," Jan says. "You're too much. Actually, sorry, do you have a preferred ethnic affiliation?"

Loki says flatly, "What?"

"Do you want me to say you're an Asgardian or a Jotun or Thor's kid brother or what?" she asks.

"I'm not his brother," Loki says automatically, and then bites his lip.

"But you're related, right?" Jan frowns.

"Half-brothers," Thor says, wounded. He hates it when Loki says that, although now he can see why he might.

"I didn't mean that!" Loki says defensively. He gets both smaller and spikier in the comfy chair.

Thor takes a deep breath. "I know," he says. He's starting to listen for when Loki does and doesn't mean things, and although he doesn't think he'll ever get it right _every_ time, he knows Loki didn't mean to be cruel. "We have the same father," he tells Jan. "So, yes. We are brothers." He's still waiting to know what race Loki sees himself as, though.

Loki doesn’t reveal that. Loki sighs and rolls his eyes. Tedious and wrong. He doesn’t know why he is _here_. Thor is still stupid, always stupid. His plans cannot be good; he should not have said yes to Thor’s offer.

"Yeah, dude, that's a help," Jan tells him. " _What_ are you trying to say? You're going to give poor Thor a guilt complex."

"I mean this," Loki says, a little nastily, and changes over to herself with almost no fuss.

"Oh my _god,"_ Jan says. "That is _so cool."_

Thor swears under his breath. "I'm sorry, Loki," he says. "I forget. I shouldn't." He smiles at Jan. "Siblings."

Loki gives him a quick little look that is painfully familiar, the _old_ kind of familiar. She hasn't shown him that in years.

"Oh my _god,"_ Jan says again, delighted. "So you can switch bodies, whatever, but you ID as something other than a boy? _What_ are your pronouns?"

The familiar look flickers off into a kind of terror.

Thor hasn't thought to ask these questions. He's just amassed a great heap of assumptions. He watches Loki intently for the answer.

"I," she says, and her voice drops as she switches back to his male body. "I don't know. I--I suppose I'm a man when I'm a man? And a woman when I'm a woman?" The worry is edged out by something more mischievous. "And a wolf when I'm a wolf."

Thor sighs. "No one was happy about that incident. Poor Bucky. What did he ever do to you?" He leans over and pats Loki's arm, though.

Loki twitches away from his touch.

"I don't know if you and Bucky are gonna hate each other or love each other," Jan considers. "You're both so messed up! If you didn't have a boyfriend already I'd just say you should screw and figure it out from there."

Loki resumes his angry cat stance. He hates them. He hates them _so much._

Thor is somewhat taken aback, although he should be used to Jan by now. "Do you think," he manages, "that we can speak to Tony about this? With the proper apologies for Loki nearly getting him killed?"

Jan says, "I don't think whatever Tony's deal is, that it's about the wolf thing. It's his team, you'd better talk to him about this plan of yours. Check out how I'm putting you off telling it to me because I should so totally not know first."

"I didn't _kill_ anybody," Loki mutters. He'd gotten close with Thor's boy.

"You could have," Thor says sternly. "Should we pay Tony a visit, then? I don't want to...alarm him." He wishes he knew what he can and can't say.

"Better do," Jan says. "Hey, Loki, you look so comfortable to hug. Would it be safe for me to hug you?"

" _No,"_ Loki says.

"That is completely fair," says Jan.

"Thank you for talking to us," Thor says, getting to his feet quickly. "We'll let you know what Tony decides. "Goodbye." He practically flees, hoping Loki follows.

"Okay!" Jan says, and jumps when Loki vanishes.

Loki reappears outside the door. He won’t follow Thor around like the tail on a goat.

Thor takes a shaky breath. "I'm sorry," he says. "She can be...overwhelming." He rolls out the tension in his shoulders. He was half afraid Loki was going to attack her. He needs not to let next time go like that.

Loki is doing that folding-in thing he always did when someone rebuked him at home. "Are we going to the next one, then?" he asks. He wants to go back a day and stay angry and only angry. He wants Victor and a locked door and a great deal of wine.

"Yes," Thor says, "but it will be different. Tony talks a lot, but not like that." He wonders if he should say something about Tony, but he doesn't know what he'd say, and anyway, Loki will figure it out if Tony gets upset.

~

Tony is busy caffeinating when JARVIS announces a visitor. He's already been hard and work today wrapping up the minor difficulty AIM's been causing. After that, he and Steve went their separate ways to shower, and now Tony is basking in his five minutes alone in a conference room, on his second cup of coffee for the day.

When he opens the door to find Thor and Loki, his morning gets a little worse.

"Tony!" Thor says brightly. "Good morning!"

Loki keeps his face blank and harmless. He is unwilling to speak first. He has no idea what he _should_ say. Maybe he used to know, before he was mad. Even when he was mad. Maybe he never did. It was always like this with Loki and Thor's friends. This is a new, worst version of being a child.

"Morning," Tony says briskly, after a second. "Come in? I'm guessing Loki isn't here to kill me, so he can come in, too. You can come in," he amends, because Loki probably likes being spoken to directly. He backs up and spreads his arms wide, vaguely indicating places to sit. This room has particularly nice swivel chairs.

Loki has to move into the room by force of will, because the idea of sitting and talking with another mortal with good reason to hate him and the expectation that he is suddenly somehow tame is exhausting. He hesitates in the doorway and tests, "I am sorry about the wolf."

"Huh--oh, yeah," Tony says, "that's fine. I mean, it's not at all fine, but--Are you really sorry? What's going on, anyway? Are you--are you okay?" Because, oh god, this is probably about...the thing Thor was looking into. Tony feels his heart speed up.

Loki wore no armor and no cape today on purpose, so he wouldn't be making a show of strength where he's meant to be showing his throat. He wants nothing less than this, though. Tony Stark could have been dead, and then he wouldn't be saying these things to Loki in these awful quick syllables. Stark is so vulnerable it makes him ill to watch.

"I'm not sorry yet," he says honestly. "I'm still trying to get well."

Tony smiles with a quick flash of teeth. _Honesty._ "Good," he says. "Thanks. I think we can do business, then. If it's business you're here to do."

"In a sense," Thor says. "We have a plan we'd like to involve the Avengers in. If you can get along with Loki."

Loki actually manages to make it into the room this time, and perches himself on a table. The goal is good, unseating Odin is good and Loki is satisfied by that, but he's uneasy about the points at which Thor might explain _why_ it is the goal. This is why Loki went mad to begin with--to keep from being naked the way Thor is going to make him.

Tony sets about making tea at the table in the corner, since Thor has proved caffeine works on Asgardians, and Loki probably doesn't need any coffee. "Assume we're getting along," he says. "What's the plan?"

"We want to go to war with Asgard," Thor says carefully, glancing at Loki.

Loki says carefully, "We thought we'd unseat the king on charges of monstrosity."

"Your--your father?" Tony says over the roaring in his ears. His hands have gone numb and he thinks maybe he's dropped the mug he was holding.

"Tony?" Thor says.

"Yes," says Loki. "As it turns out." He watches Tony intently, blood rushing.

"Oh," Tony says. "Oh. Oh." He can't seem to say anything else. This is _so much worse._

" _Tony,"_ Thor says again, sharply.

Loki is on his feet, suddenly, and in Tony's space. "Why are you afraid?" he asks. "You're not afraid of me." He feels cold enough to burn.

"I, oh god," Tony chokes out. He can't stop seeing it, can't stop _feeling_ it, all the times he almost said no and _didn't_...His hands are shaking. "Sorry," he says. "Sorry, didn't mean to...Just, uh, some things got..." He can't even get words out, _any_ words.

"Did he tell you?" Loki whispers. "Did Thor tell you what happened to me?"

Tony swallows. "He told me about Balder," he says. "And then I asked him not to tell me anything else." He's shaking so hard his teeth are chatting. He's dimly aware of Thor standing uselessly to one side and looking worried.

Loki's eyes narrow. " _Oh,"_ he says. When he turns around it looks like a lazy motion until his foot connects with the door. The door crashes violently backwards into the wall. When it swings forward again there's a hole in the wall where the knob connected.

"I need do nothing but stand in a _room,"_ he mutters furiously. All he is is fragments and the symbol of a victim. It is disgusting. He wants to kill something.

"Loki," Thor starts.

"No," Tony says. "No, it's fine, he's just--it's fair, it's fine. Everything's fine." He tries to force down the sick feeling of someone touching him.

"I _am_ sorry for this," Loki says, and realizes it’s true. He is angry because someone he has hurt before was hurt before that. Because every world is the same, and he cannot get away from it. He crosses his arms and paces until he realizes he'll have to pass Thor, and turns around again. He's shaking. "I should go. I should not--remind you." He’ll go to Victor.

"No," Tony says, trying to take a deep breath and taking too many instead. "No, no, it's not that. It's--nothing. There's nothing. It's fine. Just a long day. Already. Ha. So, deposing Odin!"

Thor is looking murderous. Loki gives Tony a pale, resolutely incredulous, look.

"I think," Tony says through his teeth, "that that, is a good, idea."

Loki says viciously, "I'd kill him outright, but I’d only die doing it. And I'm still too afraid of him to try."

Tony laughs thinly. "Sometimes they do you a favor and get themselves killed." His heart is racing and he has to clutch the back of a chair so his knees don't give out. _Can't stop feeling it._ He presses a hand to his chest without thinking.

"If they’re dead they can no longer find you," Loki says sharply. He turns to Thor, raging. "Where's his precious Captain America? Why aren't you getting him?"

Thor takes a few steps back. "I, I will," he says. He fumbles with his phone and calls Steve.

"Shit," Tony whispers. "Yeah, just what I need, Steve seeing me have _another_ breakdown over nothing." He stops himself long enough to meet Loki's eyes. "Hey. This is _not_ your fault," he says. "I'm just a crazy person. Okay?" He kicks a piece of the broken mug away.

Loki sneers. "I'm sure that's your fault," he says. "I'm sure it was mine." The answer, it seems, is no lies at all, and much too much of the truth.

Tony's shaking so hard his teeth are chattering. "Different situations, probably," he says. "Whatever you're thinking, it's wrong. I wasn't, wasn't raped."

Loki's nails dig into his palms. He bites back a furious response. _Victor,_ he thinks. _Victor, Victor, Victor_. "If that’s so, what does _this,"_ he asks, looking Tony up and down, "have to do with _me?"_

" _Nothing,"_ Tony snaps. "My brain's just making stupid, stupid associations that don't--You're right, it _was_ my fault. Nobody made me do anything. I walked right into something that was bad for me and I was too stupid to see it."

Loki is feeding off of Tony's fear, he realizes. He has to stop. It's eating him up. "Of course," he says, barely more than whispering. "You’re reckless. You deserved it."

"You're right," Tony says, trying and failing to make his voice sound normal. "And, hey, I never said no. I never said no." Both of his hands are fisted in the front of his t-shirt.

 _What is Thor doing?_ Loki wonders wildly. What has Thor brought him into? There was a moment, yesterday, when he felt all the parts of his mind shift into something whole and traversable. There are cracks in it, now, and he hates the realization that he will have to build his wholeness over and over to keep it alive.

"Stop!" he barks. "You’re being stupid. _Stupid_ little mortal, do you think anyone looks like you do now and says what you are saying and tells the _truth?"_

Tony forces his hands to loosen. "I don't know," he says blankly. "I don't know a whole lot about the truth." He just barely hears JARVIS announce that someone is on the way.

Loki, standing against the table, clutches at its edge. "Stop," he says again, fiercely. "And leave it be. It doesn't matter why Odin is a bad king. He should have known about Balder. It was once. It was enough."

Tony nods frantically. "Right. Got it. Yes. True. I am on board with this plan. Is what I meant to say. _Sorry."_

"Steve should be here soon," Thor says, his voice sharp with distress. Great, Tony thinks. Poor guy probably had no idea this would happen.

Loki is scowling ferociously.

"I _am_ sorry about the wolf," he says.

"Oh," Tony says, "God. That's okay." And then he's crying, because Loki _is_ sorry, clearly sorry, and if Tony doesn't cry, he's going to _scream,_ and that will be a worse thing for Steve to walk in on.

Loki sits across from him with his nails digging into his knees. "I'm a witch," he says, apropos of nothing. "Not really a god. No one else does magic like I do magic, though. None of the gods. Not Victor. Not the Jotuns."

Tony watches Loki and nods, waiting. "Yeah. Yeah, I can tell. That's...not the most fun." He wipes his eyes viciously with the back of his hand.

"But look," Loki says, and he holds out his hand and puts a flame in it. The flame turns into a little fox and darts across Loki's palm onto Tony's hand. It doesn't burn.

" _Oh,"_ Tony breathes. "Jesus. That's gorgeous."

Loki balks. "You don't mean that," he says kindly.

"Huh?" Tony says. "Why wouldn't I? It just is. _Look what you can make."_

Loki becomes intensely and suspiciously quiet. The fox plays with Tony's fingers.

"Tickles," Tony notes after a moment. "Doesn't burn, though." He feels like he's caught in the eye of a massive storm.

"Of course not," Loki says, not quite casually. "I'm trying to be your friend."

"Huh," Tony says. "I appreciate the...temporary truce. Okay? That's all it has to be. And I really do appreciate it." His heart-rate has slowed to something manageable.

"Do you think after we've disposed the king, I should go back to what I've been?" Loki asks. He's still so quiet. He reaches out for the fox flame, and it swarms up his hand.

"Depends how hard it is for you to do this instead, I guess," Tony says softly.

Loki sighs. "This is only difficult because I'm accustomed to something worse," he says. He shrugs abruptly. "I don't know if I can manage it. I don't know if I'll want to."

"For what it's worth, I think it'd be cool if you tried," Tony says. "Tell you what, you try that, I'll try not to...do this." His waves his arm, encompassing the broken mug, the coffee, the crying.

Loki blinks at him. "Truly, I don't understand you mortals," he says. "I try to kill you, and you--"

The door swings open and a voice says, "Tony? Tony!" and Loki barely has time to get to his feet and away from the door before Steve is bending down to put his hand on Tony's face.

Tony makes a startled little noise and shuts his eyes. He hopes to god he looks like less of a mess than he feels, but it's not likely. And with the broken mug and Thor standing there looking petrified...yeah. "Hi," he says.

Steve removes his hand, shoots a wary look at Loki, who is standing at a good distance and looking...suspicious...and says, "How would you feel about a more comfortable seat? Maybe one with no shards?"

"I'm fine," Tony says. "No, really, calm and everything, please don't baby me. Sorry. Just--tense. Steve, Loki is here for help with a political uprising."

"What!" Steve says. He straightens up and gives Loki another look. Loki glares back.

"Loki and I," Thor says from his equally anxious distance, "wish to depose our father."

"For good reasons," Tony says. "That aren't important right now. But trust me, they're good."

"Oh," Steve says, bewildered. "Well, Tony, if you think it's a good idea, I'll back it." He is not at all sure about this Loki thing, but he's not about to say so in front of Loki or, more importantly, Thor.

"Great," Tony says. "Well. This has been...productive. Sorry to freak you out, Loki." He offers a genuine, somewhat exhausted smile. "We'll do better next time. Want some tea? I can try again."

Thor is still making anxious eyes at Steve, as if he's trying to convey the emotional train-wreck Steve just missed.

Loki says, surprisingly calm, "I believe I have overextended my brother. Perhaps Thor and I will take a meal elsewhere and then meet more of your comrades?"

Steve eyes him, but no. Can't figure it out.

"Yes!" Thor says, so fast that Tony has to laugh.

"Great," Tony says. "That sounds perfect. I'll, uh, clean up and call a meeting a little while. Get Thor some water or something, my god."

There's a brief flash of a smile before Loki says, "I'll do that."

~

Thor doesn't want to eat after all, and he looks much less stricken once they've left the Avengers' tower.

"I can go back to the embassy from here," Loki says smoothly. "Remember, I know my way around. You know where I'll be, you can reach me when Stark calls his meeting."

Thor nods gratefully. "All right. I'll see you soon, then." He thinks it's best if he goes off somewhere quiet, possibly with Bruce. Seeing two people he cares about in _that much pain_ from something he cannot hit until it stops has been unnerving.

~

Loki lets himself into the embassy and wanders upstairs until he finds Victor.

Victor is working on some of the small, complex parts inside the head of a Doombot when Loki comes in, but he still stands up instantly when Loki enters the room.

"Well?" he demands. "How did it go?"

"It was fine," Loki says.

Victor raises his eyebrows. "Try again, dear."

"Oh," Loki says, "I met people I've tried to kill and they forgave me, and Tony Stark has bad memories triggered by my mere presence, and he said my magic was beautiful." He blinks hard. "He wants to help us depose my father."

Victor puts an arm around Loki, not carefully, but comfortably. "All in all, it sounds as though it could have gone worse. I imagine a lot of people set Stark off."

Loki ducks his head. "I think this was rather particular," he says quietly.

Victor nods, not especially perturbed. "That doesn't surprise me. Was it that giant man who used to follow him around and smile too much? Probably. Not your fault."

Loki shudders. "I've wanted to come home all morning," he says. "Have you made me weak, or have I just remembered my natural state of being?"

"I've given you a home," Victor says shortly. "Is that enough of a reason?"

"Please don't," Loki says. It's all he seems to be saying today. This time he means, _please don't be angry._ He can't cross words just now.

Victor frowns. Then he takes Loki's face in his hands and says, "Loki. Darling. _Mine."_ He kisses him gently, and then with teeth.

Loki clings to him, and kisses back, but he breaks it to nuzzle closer. "Victor, Victor, Victor," he whispers. "I'm so tired. I don't know which of me I am. I don't understand these people." He laughs. It's a distressed sound, like his laughter often is. "Do you know, I don't know what will be left if I'm not fueled by what hurts."

Victor tries to remember a time before he was _angry,_ and he can't. He has no answer for Loki. "If there's nothing left, you can build new things," he says. "I'm not saying it will be easy. But it will be possible."

Loki breathes out a shuddering breath. He hasn't cried, and he feels like he ought to. "Victor," he says, "I think you should fuck me. Right now. Make me better. Hold me down. Tie me down if you have to. I want to be in one piece."

It sounds like a lot to ask. Victor has never shied away from a challenge. 

"Gladly," he says.


	2. more than one way to pin a cat (victor von doom knows)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He kneels between her legs and says, "And now, _relax."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: explicit consensual loki/doom (m/m and m/f), past rape, compromised consent

Victor takes Loki to one of the bedrooms and shuts and locks the door. No one will disturb them, but he wants to be _sure._ He sheds most of his armor as soon as the door is locked, leaving his mask for last.

"I want you naked," he tells Loki, tugging him close. "I want to feel you." His hands roam over Loki's body as though he's checking for damage.

"Hmm," Loki murmurs back, uneven. He starts to raise his hand, and then stops with a little half-smile. He unbuckles his coat and drapes it over a chair, then unlaces the cuffs on his arms, then pulls his shirt over his head. He stops with his hands on his trousers.

"Is this what you want?" he asks. "Is it too--" _Slow? Normal?_

"I want you to fuck me," Victor says steadily. "That's what I want. And I'll take it any way you choose to give it to me, but you _will_ give it to me." He grabs Loki and pulls him into a crushing kiss.

Loki submits, but when he pulls back he looks perturbed. "You want _me_ to--"

"I do," Victor says fiercely. His fingers are still digging into Loki's forearms. "I want you inside me."

Loki shivers, but he nods. He draws back from Victor and kneels down to untie his boots. When he's pulled them off he looks up, a little pink.

"I have socks," he says. "I try very hard, you know, Victor, to cultivate the image of a person who never has to worry about socks."

Victor laughs, delighted, mostly because he understands the problem. "I won't tell anyone." He tugs Loki's hair gently, meaning the promise. Loki ducks his head and pulls his stockings off. He doesn't look up when he gets to his feet, only undoes his trousers and pushes them to the floor with his underclothes.

"I haven't _done_ that in a while," he muses, as if to himself. He puts his hands on Victor's arms, and runs them over his skin, as if he needs to find his bearings in a familiar dark room. Finally he tugs Victor back into a kiss. "I don't want to be _too_ terrible," he says. He's acting as ginger as a cat on a wet floor. It's not characteristic at all.

"You needn't be careful," Victor says, his voice rough. "I can take a lot, even of awkwardness and error." He wants to say _I trust you,_ but it would be too much. He shouldn't trust anyone to do this. He scrapes his nails down Loki's side and presses against him, feeling the not-quite-heat of his body.

Loki chuckles, in an ominous sort of way. "It's been a very long day, Victor," he says.

"Which is why I'm having you do this," Victor says over the undercurrent of anxiety.

"Will it _help?"_ Loki asks, and there's a reassuringly familiar sneer in it.

Victor grabs Loki's wrists. " _Yes,"_ he hisses. "For now, yes. Not forever. That's more complicated. But if you don't find your day improved by what I do with you now, I'll be surprised."

Something fits back into place in Loki's expression, and his hands tighten on Victor's upper arms.

"Then I’ll try to bore you," he purrs. He spins Victor around against the bed, and pushes him down onto his stomach. Victor fights a tiny spike of fear, of _now you're vulnerable, fool,_ but he pushes it away.

He says, "I've always wondered what it would be like to let a god have me."

Loki sighs and strokes his hand over Victor's back. He leans in for a few seconds, his whole weight pinning Victor through the heel of one hand. Then he says, "Move up, Victor. Get on your knees."

"I--" Victor starts, the beginning of an instinctive refusal, but he stops himself and does as Loki says. He feels terrifyingly exposed.

"Shh," Loki says. He runs his fingers over Victor’s back, broader than his own. Plenty of men’s are. "No fear, now, Victor. You _know_ me, don't you? Where do you keep your ointment? Unless you don't _want_ any?" His hands curl, out of sight, against Victor's hips.

Victor gasps, starts to agree, then thinks better of it. "No, I--I think we'd better. That small chest of drawers there. I believe there's something that will suffice." He is nothing if not well-prepared.

Loki pats the side of Victor's hip as he pulls away, and is moving like a self-satisfied lynx by the time he reaches the chest. The drawer squeaks a little when he pulls it open, but he ignores it and paws through the contents until he has the right bottle. He slips back into place behind Victor and says softly, over the snap of the bottle cap opening, "You've never had anything to fear from me, have you?" His fingers, cold and wet, touch against Victor's tailbone and draw a line down. "Not really. We’ve been friends from the start. I would never do anything to hurt you, would I?"

Victor shudders against his will. "Would you? You're a _god._ You're a god of mischief and chaos. It would hardly be reasonable for me to say no. Aah--But I do trust you. No matter how much of a fool that makes me." There, the words are out.

For a few seconds, Loki's touch pulls away, and there is silence behind Victor. Then Loki presses his fingers against Victor's ass, slick and pushing.

"Of course you do," Loki whispers. "Because you know me so--well." He pushes one finger inside, a little fast, and then too gentle.

Victor makes a small sound and winds his fingers into the sheet. "I think I know you better than your family does, now," he says. "Because I _listen."_ He tries to force himself to relax and remember that Loki _probably_ won't hurt him.

"There you are," Loki whispers, easing another finger in with the first. He twists them, inside Victor, and climbs up on his knees so the weight of his hips rests against Victor's ass. Victor is hard when Loki reaches his free hand around to take his cock.

Loki isn't. Loki has to fix that, immediately, before Victor can't be distracted enough not to notice. He doesn't fix it yet, though; he says, too sweet, "I'm stronger than you, and I'm your friend. And now I've got my fingers up your ass, Victor, and it doesn't matter whether you _think_ I'd hurt you or not."

He only realizes what he’s doing as he says it. He didn't know, when Victor asked. He didn’t know he would do this. This isn't his fault. They’re just there, lurking in him, being stirred to the surface.

Victor gasps and pushes back against Loki's fingers. "Oh--Damn it, Loki. Please." He doesn't like it when Loki starts being threatening. That means he's upset.

Loki lets go of Victor's cock, eases his fingers out, digs his nails into the small of Victor's back. "A moment," he says softly, forcing the violence out of his voice. He thinks about Victor as fiercely as he can (he imagines Victor fucking _him)_ and strokes himself as roughly as he can, and bites his lip, and runs his shaking hand over Victor's legs and stomach and chest, until he's hard. He grabs Victor's arm and blinks and growls, "Tell me you want it." He nudges the head of his cock against Victor's ass.

"I want it," Victor says, but he's frowning. "Loki--you don't have to--"

"You're not making me!" Loki snaps, and pushes in. It doesn't matter that Victor sounds worried. He can't see the tears on Loki's cheeks, so it's fine. It's _fine._

Victor cries out softly and bites his lip. It hurts more than he expected. It's been too long. "Loki," he says again. "You don't have to try to please me, idiot."

"Why shouldn't I try to please you?" Loki asks. He pauses, to put more of Victor's lube on the rest of his cock. The cold makes him catch his breath. It's reassuring. He eases in more carefully.

"I want to please you, Victor," he says. "I'm allowed to want to please you." He's still crying, but Victor can't hear him. He’s forcing his voice steady. It's fine as long as Victor doesn't notice any teardrops hitting his skin.

Victor moans and pushes back against Loki. "Yes, that's--that's better, yes, do that." He clears his throat, wishing he could look Loki in the eye. "Please me, then."

Loki moans--it's impossible to tell how much from pleasure and how much from distress. He pulls back, slowly, and watches Victor squirm. "Yes, Victor," he says hoarsely, and starts to move more regularly, and more quickly. He shifts his weight to get his fingers on the head of Victor's cock.

 _Just blink until you can see straight,_ he rebukes himself. _And don't be such a child._

"It's all right," Victor mutters under his breath, thrusting into Loki's hand. "It's all right, I'm here, I've got you. You have the power here." He doesn't think it's _helping,_ but now he wants Loki so much he can't think. Loki tries not to hear what Victor is saying, because when he can hear what Victor is saying, he starts to think, and then everything threatens to overwhelm him.

"Do you want to come from this, Victor?" he asks, and hopes desperately that it sounds like sex, and not like pain.

"...No," Victor says, deciding suddenly when the sound in Loki's voice slots into place. "Pull out. I have a better idea."

Loki doesn't expect that, and he nearly panics, because if Victor doesn't come, he won't be distracted, and Loki can't hide his face.

"Make up your mind," he says, putting a scowl in his voice, and he doesn't pull away.

"Pull out," Victor says steadily. "I don't need this. What I need is for you to be all right. I can chase down an orgasm any time I want."

That steals all the retorts out of Loki's breath. He pulls out and climbs backwards towards the edge of the bed.

Victor rolls over and sees Loki's face. " _Loki,"_ he says sharply.

Loki wipes viciously at his eyes. _"What?"_

Victor grabs Loki's wrists again. "Loki. Change for me." He remembers what Loki said about the crying.

Loki tenses and stares at him, big-eyed. "To what?" he asks.

"I want you as a woman," Victor says, refusing to look away from him.

"Kiss me," Loki says, breathlessly, after a moment.

Victor pulls Loki close and does so, biting Loki's bottom lip hard enough to sting. Loki sighs and shuts his eyes, and changes form in Victor's arms. Victor keeps kissing her, and when he finally pulls back, he's breathing fast.

"Lie down. I'm going to bind you." He tells her both because he likes to say it and so she'll have a chance to say no if she wants.

"Victor?" she asks uncertainly. "Do you think--" She wants to know if he thinks she will be all right. Lately he seems to know better than she does.

"Yes?" he prompts. He stands and goes to the closet to look for the ropes he keeps there. Maybe having his back turned will help.

"Perhaps if I know I can get free," she says, setting her jaw.

Victor nods, taking the ropes out and turning to her again. "Of course. Will these do? They're only rope, and you could burn or cut through them with your magic at will. Or I can make sure the knots are easy to slip."

"Just make the loops too big," she says. "A bit too big." She manages not to whisper. She hadn't realized--Thor's friends, especially Stark, have run through her resources, and she feels only barely whole.

Victor nods. "Easily done. Lie back. Let me tie you down." He pushes her down gently, leaving room for her to resist. Loki lets him push her, and on her back she feels more grounded than she did when she was trying to fuck Victor. The difference, she thinks, is that she actually _knows_ Victor would never hurt her. She doesn't know what to think of herself.

Victor bends over to kiss her a bit more before spreading her arms and tying her hands to each bedpost.

"Legs, too?" he asks. "I'd like to."

Loki fidgets, tugging on the knots in her upstretched hands, and considers.

"Yes," she says. "Yes. Hold me down."

Victor is wary of upsetting her by accident, but he doesn't hesitate even for a moment. He puts one hand on her hip, keeping her firmly in place, and pulls her legs apart with the other. He pins her legs open with his knees and lingers over her for a few moments, both hands pinning her flat to the bed. Then he rolls off and spreads her legs wider, finally tying them to the bedstead that way, with just a bit of give so she can bend her knees slightly.

By the time he is done, Loki is breathing hard, but not from fear.

"And then?" she asks. "Come on, Victor." Her eyes burn into his. "I trust you too."

He blinks at her, blindsided for a moment. He doesn't know if she means it. He thinks she might.

But it doesn't scare him. He kneels between her legs and says, "And now, _relax."_ He bends of kiss the inside of her thigh, first a brush of his lips and then a rougher, sucking kiss.

 _"Oh!"_ she says, surprised. Victor's lips on her thigh make her suddenly dizzy with want. "Oh," she gasps again. "Is that what you're, are you, _are you?"_

No one does.

Victor lifts his head, frowning. "I don't see why not. I've sucked your cock. It's all _you."_ He ducks his head again and pushes his tongue against Loki, spreading her open to run his tongue over her clit.

Loki gasps and jerks back.

"Victor," she says. "Victor. Victor, _no one_ does--"

"Why?" Victor snaps, angry at all of them. "Do you want it? If you want it, it's yours. They are all fools in so many ways." He scraps his nails lightly over Loki's thigh.

Loki tilts her head up to see him better, alarmed.

"You're not them," she says, trying to push what he's saying away from herself. "It doesn't matter. I want it."

He nods and licks at her again, messy, pushing. He keeps his hands on her legs, holding them apart, even though they're already tied in place. He thinks she might like his hands on her. Loki whines, loud and barely stopping for breath. She kicks at the mattress and raises her hips to his mouth. She's begging him for it, under her breath.

"You taste amazing," Victor mutters, but loud enough that he's sure she can hear him. He flicks his tongue inside her, but just barely. Loki sobs, her legs automatically fighting to shut. Victor chuckles and tongues her roughly, letting her fight. He shuts his eyes and bows his head, burying his face in her and sucking gently at her clit.

"I can't, I can't, I can't," she babbles, but she's barely forming words. Her back arches, her wrists hauling at the ropes until she's raw. "You can't, I'm filthy, you can't want, I'm not--"

"Beautiful," Victor says, going down again between sentences. "A genius. A better witch than most mortals get the chance to be. All of this is true."

 _"Victor,"_ she pleads, her voice shaking. She goes limp and tenses up with the movements of his tongue.

Victor stops teasing and pushes his tongue inside her, bringing a finger up to stroke her clit in a steady, fast rhythm. She feels _so good._

 _"Victor,"_ Loki cries, writhing. "Fuck me, fuck me, _Victor,_ please, _in me!"_

Victor slides a finger into Loki’s cunt, keeping his mouth on her. "So wet," he whispers against her, pumping his finger in and out. Loki sobs, fucking herself on him, arms stretched. She cries out in time with her thrusts, more and more desperate. Victor crooks his finger inside her and sucks her clit hard, working his mouth over her.

"Oh," she gasps, loud and uneven. "Oh--oh. Victor. Victor." She exhales and her lungs lock, her legs tense around Victor's body, her knuckles white around the knots in her ropes.

_So. Close._

"Safe," Victor says. "Home. _Mine."_ He flicks his tongue against her.

" _Victor,"_ she hisses and then gasps, loud, and her body fights to double up as she comes. She shouts and fights and kicks, and then sags, quivering, against the mattress. Victor waits for a moment, stroking her through it, before moving to untie her. He wants to hold her properly. He gathers her into his arms and kisses her hair, whispering, "You’re safe." _I'm holding a god,_ he thinks. It doesn't seem that jarring. She clings to him, anyway, as though it's natural, burying her face against his chest, whimpering almost inaudibly.

"You're all right," he says quietly. "Whatever happened, you came through it and you're _all right."_

Loki peers up at him from under her hair. She's quiet for a minute, and he thinks she's not going to speak at all, but she finally says, "Are you sure it'll stick?"

"No," Victor says. He won't lie to her. "I don't think this is going to be easy. I think you're going to remember a lot of things you would rather not, and you can still be hurt by whatever they choose to say to you. But afterwards, you will still be all right. He brushes her hair out of her eyes. "And you'll still have me."

There's a crease between her eyes. "If I'm not mad anymore," she says, "will we still fit?"

"I'm good at fitting," Victor promises. "You are still an ambitious little witch with easily-hurt feelings. I think we'll fit quite well."

Her expression doesn't change, but her eyes aren't as calm as they should be. "You think I won't change my mind about you, if I change any more?"

A current of fear threads its way through Victor's certainly. If Loki is sane, if Loki is whole, what does he have to give her that she won't flinch from? He sets his jaw. "I know you won't."

"You hurt people," she says, burrowing against him.

"I've not hurt you," he says, wrapping his arms around her and looking at the wall.

"No," she agrees, holding him tightly. "You haven't."


	3. thor and loki go to asgard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Whom do you still trust in Asgard?" he asks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: past rape, disclosure, bad mental health

Thor and Loki have little in common, but neither of them likes to delay once they have a plan in mind. They go to find Tyr the day after Loki has been introduced (on good terms) to his first Avengers. Loki dresses himself as a man, in armor, because his female self is less vulnerable in almost every instance that isn't a discussion of rape. So he wears the armor to make up for being vulnerable, and he wears his body to make up for being hurt. Victor frets by scowling, and Loki bites his tongue to avoid saying that the worst Tyr will do to him and Thor is try to kill them both for defaming their father.

He meets Thor at the door of the Latverian Embassy. 

Thor is wearing his full Asgardian armor, complete with cape. He's been putting it away lately, except when the team is specifically on a mission, but he knows it's something Tyr will respect. He greets Loki with a wide smile, despite his nerves.

"Sibling! You look well. I trust you rested last night?"

"Well enough," Loki replies impenetrably. "We should go."

Thor nods. "He is likely in Asgard--and if not, Heimdall can tell us where to go." He quails at the prospect of speaking to Heimdall again, but regardless of where Tyr is, they're going to have to.

Loki nods shortly.

Thor hesitates. "The nearest Bifrost portal...I am going to fly. Do you want...?"

Loki suppresses a shudder and says, "Where is it?" Then he waves his hand. "Never mind. I'll just take you to the old one, shall I? I hope you like the cold; it almost _qualifies_ as cold.”

Loki doesn't touch him, but suddenly Thor feels a rush, and sees almost nothing, and finds himself standing in a snowbank with no humanity in sight.

Thor blinks rapidly. He's rarely traveled by Loki's magic, and it always leaves him unpleasantly dazed. He shivers. "Heimdall?" he says tentatively. The portal is probably covered by all this _snow._

"Really, now," Loki says, and calls up much more loudly, "Heimdall! We would come and speak with you!"

There is nothing, at first, but then the Bifrost opens around them, and they are drawn back to Asgard in a rush of wind. When they arrive, Heimdall stares past them, stone-still.

"You should not be here, Loki Laufeyson," he says, discomfort audible in his even voice.

"I see what you call me now," Loki sneers. "Is that to cast me further out of Asgard than I already am, or merely to distance yourself from your own shame?"

Heimdall does not answer this. He addresses Thor, instead.

"You are barely more welcome, except as the king's successor. I have allowed you to cross into Asgard twice in recent weeks, and now you bring this realm's would-be destroyer with you. Explain, prince of the Aesir."

Loki is pale, his lips pursed. Thor is tempted to answer defensively, but angering Heimdall will help with nothing. 

"I come seeking my brother," Thor says tightly. "Tyr. Is he within Asgard?" It occurs to him horribly that Heimdall can see everything. If he happened to be watching while Thor and Loki plotted a coup...

"Tyr is with the king," Heimdall says after a moment. "If you would see him, you must hide yourselves somewhere other than my post. You should go. I have other things to mind."

Loki looks at him hard. "Elsewhere?" he asks.

"Across the nine realms," Heimdall answers.

Loki considers, and then nods, tightly.

"We will go," he says.

Thor feels a few steps behind, as he often did when he and Loki were younger. He casts Loki a questioning glance, unused to letting him take the lead. "Well, brother? Where now?"

Loki frowns. "Whom do you still trust in Asgard?" he asks.

Heimdall stares at them (through them?) impassively.

"I mean," Loki says impatiently, "bring us to _them._ Don't tell me who they are."

Thor thinks for a moment. Then he says, "Follow me." He casts one last glance at Heimdall before starting off. He wishes he could tell what Heimdall is thinking.

When they're well away from the bridge, Loki says, "He isn't watching. Where are we going?"

"Sif," Thor says. "And, if she's with the other three, to them. None of them would never betray me."

Loki's jaw clenches, but he nods.

"I'm sorry," Thor says as he strides in the direction of the house most likely to contain Sif. "We have to make compromises." Asgard feels fraught as it never has before.

"I didn't expect otherwise," Loki says resignedly. He keeps pace.

They reach Sif's door and Thor knocks twice, loudly. "I hope she's in," he says. He doesn't like the feeling of being watched. He doubts Heimdall is watching, but Odin's ravens are always nearby.

Sif opens the door almost immediately. She takes a step back when she sees Thor, and one forward again when she sees Loki.

"Thor, what is this?" she demands.

"If you don't let us in now you may not have the chance to learn," Loki says pointedly, and Sif glares at him.

"We are in need of both haste and secrecy," Thor interrupts, stepping past Sif into the house. Loki follows, unapologetically shutting the door behind them. "We are here without my father's knowledge," Thor says. "It must remain that way. And we must see Tyr." Thor looks at her expectantly, sorry for his rudeness, but too tense to repair it.

"Yes, well, Tyr doesn't live here," Sif says, frowning. "Thor, tell me what you're about. The last time I saw you, _he_..." She points rather violently at Loki. "...had nearly killed your love. What is he doing back at your heels? What kind of trouble is he roping you into now?"

"Hold there," Thor says swiftly. "He is not _roping me into_ anything. I do not think I can tell you every detail now and keep you safe, but I can tell you I have a quarrel with my father. As does Loki--You see our need for haste."

"Thor!" Sif says. "Tell me you cannot be such a fool. I know you have never thought Loki was manipulating you, even as he's pulled you into the worst mischief. But listen to yourself! Conspiracy against your father? For all your quarrels with him, I cannot think any quarrel would justify that!"

"It wouldn't, if Odin were a better man," Loki says. "But then we wouldn't have a quarrel, would we?"

Sif scowls at him.

"I must ask you to trust me," Thor says urgently. "The details are not something I wish to share, but believe me, it is deserving of recrimination, and I _will_ pursue it."

Sif is watching Loki, so she sees him relax ever so slightly when Thor passes over the precise reason for their rebellion. _Interesting._

"Tyr is rarely of a mind to listen to much I have to say," Sif says, "but I can try to catch him once he is dismissed by the king. I suppose he'll pay heed if I say you're asking."

"Thank you," Thor says gratefully. "I owe you much of late, and I have not yet begun to repay it. I knew I could trust you to be discreet." The last is mostly a preemptive compliment. He knows Sif talks to the Warriors Three, and they gossip to everyone.

"Discreet! You'd best hope I can find Tyr quickly," Sif says grimly. "I have been expecting guests today, and I do not mean you." But she must not worry too much; she leaves before Thor or Loki can ask or comment.

Thor sighs and sits. "I hope this is wise," he says. "I trust Tyr, but only so far." He is sure Loki knows what he means. Their brother is violent, more so than Thor ever was.

Loki has put himself not quite against a wall. He is intensely small and still. He doesn't answer Thor.

"Loki," Thor says softly. "Are you...what is it?"

"To get him on your--on _our_ side," Loki says, very carefully. "He'll have to be told."

Thor nods. He'd...thought of that. "Do you want to tell him?" he asks. "That way you can choose what to leave out."

"He won't believe me," Loki says. It's practically a whisper.

Thor takes a sharp breath. Loki is probably right. "He was always close with Balder," he says softly. "And he's incredibly loyal to father."

Loki hugs his arms and scowls at thin air. "Why are we even here?" he asks bitterly. "Why even bother?"

Thor is silent for a long moment. Then he says, "To bring you peace, if there is peace to be had." He remembers Sif's words, her promise that Loki becoming whole would kill him. And that was before either of them _knew._ "And because our father does not deserve the name Allfather if this is how he treats his children," Thor adds.

Loki blinks hard.

"Oh," he says, a tiny croak. Thor's attention is inconceivable. Regardless of how much he liked Loki, he would never have paid such attention in the past. Having his familiar brash certain assertiveness directed towards _this_ is--frightening.

Thor puts his hand on Loki's calf. "Whatever happens next, whatever anyone says or does, I am by your side. And I will listen to you." He has no idea how to draw the old Loki out, if there is even anything left of him except for shards.

"I'm sorry," Loki says impulsively.

"What?" Thor asks, taken aback.

Loki stares at his knees. "Nothing is what you wanted it to be," he says. "And I'm--ruined."

Thor takes in a sharp breath. Is that how Loki sees himself, then? 

"Brother--sibling, you are _not_ ruined. You are here, are you not? Not trying to do harm to me or anyone else. You have a lover who truly cares for you and a--a home, I would wager, where you feel safe." He swallows, hoping desperately that he's right.

Loki says, careful with every syllable, "I don't remember--what it's like."

"I didn't know," Thor says miserably. This is nightmarish, the way he can't stop going over and rewriting every memory of time spent with Loki in Asgard, trying to see it from Loki's perspective.

"I don't remember what it's _like,"_ Loki persists, looking ill and determined and small, "not to be eaten alive."

Thor scrambles to his feet and grips Loki's arm as hard as he can. 

"Tell me what you need," he says fiercely, instead of guessing. He feels cold with horror.

Loki makes himself meet Thor's eyes, but he can't. He can't keep them. He looks away like a coward.

"It's no use," he says. "I'll only hurt you. You'd do better to kill me and start with something fresh." The thought of the noise and the knowing and the hatred that will arise from this undertaking makes death feel preferable, even if it's only temporary.

Suddenly Thor is no longer horrified; he is trembling with rage. His father and brother have _made Loki feel this way._

"Why should I ever want anything but you for a sibling?" he snaps. "If I began again, it would not be you." He can feel lightning along his spine.

" _Please,"_ Loki begs. He's shaking, pulling away. "Please," he whispers, and at once he simply drops to the floor with his knees pulled up and hides his head in his arms. His nails dig at his arm guards, hard enough to practically merit the armor.

Utterly dismayed, Thor kneels back beside him. "Loki. Loki." He doesn't know what else to say. "I should not have brought you here."

"It was my idea," Loki whispers.

"Your ideas--" Thor begins, but he's cut off by the door flying open.

Tyr stands in the doorway, taking up too much space, as always. His left hand is encased in dark gold. He looks startled.

"What's this we've come upon?" he growls, stepping inside. "My two older brothers, crouched on the ground in distress? Your need must be great indeed."


	4. thor gives loki and tyr a moment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He has to know if Loki loves that child as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: past rape/incest, disclosure, rape culture, bad mental health

Sif squeezes in behind Tyr to shut the door. She assesses the situation, and purses her lip.

"Their need did not look so immediate when I left," she says. "What have you two done to each other in such a brief time?"

Thor gets to his feet immediately. _Of course,_ Tyr thinks, sparing a sneer for Thor's constant desire to be the biggest in the room.

"We were just talking," Thor says quickly. He offers Loki a hand.

Tyr has not seen Loki since before his fall. He's only heard, mostly from their father, about what Loki has become. He will have to see for himself. 

"Talking was never your strong suit," Tyr suggests to Thor. 

Loki gets up without taking Thor's hand. There's nothing he can do to look less foolish and disheveled, though he does try.

"Tyr," Loki says. His voice is quiet, but steady. Sif is watching him, and she does not trust the steadiness. He looks as though he could fall apart in a moment. That doesn't mean he isn't dangerous, Sif is aware--she is probably more aware than Thor, since she's not blinded by affection as he is. But she thinks, perhaps, that dangerous or not, Loki is not taking advantage of Thor and he's not _trying_ to cause mischief. He looks more like he's trying to unmake himself where he stands.

"Brother," Tyr says. "I have heard many stories of why you left Asgard, and none from the mouths of anyone who was present immediately before you did. And now you've returned. It seems we have some catching up to do." Loki looks _wrong_ somehow. Everything that used to be wound up tightly seems to have come undone like a spool of string.

Loki tries to collect himself, but he's unsure of his belief in their purpose here and it makes it harder to put up an act. He wants to sit back down and cry. Or be sick. He feels ill.

"Apologies, little brother," he says. "I am not sure that I wish tell you after all."

Tyr snorts. "Well, someone had better. I've not been dragged to this place for nothing, have I?"

Thor hesitates. "One of us _must_ tell him," he says, glancing at Loki. "And it is not mine to tell."

Tyr frowns. His eldest brother is being unusually careful with his words. "Out with it," he says briskly. "I have campaigns to manage." He watches Loki's gaze sweeps over everyone in the room. It's hard to tell whether he is more perturbed by Tyr or by Sif.

"I," Loki starts, and then steps into himself a little. "Really, I think it is as much yours to tell as mine, Thor. We think," Loki says to the other two with a wave of his hand, "that it is about time someone other than father ruled Asgard."

Tyr barks out a laugh. " _What?_ You cannot be serious." He looks at Loki more closely. "Oh, you _are._ Then this is true madness. Father was right. And dragging our idiot brother along with you in your rebellion? Or is this uprising your idea, Thor? Your arrogance would certainly allow it."

Thor is silent, watching Loki with something that resembles either pity or horror.

"Thor!" says Sif. "Please to not tell me you've put yourself and your friends at risk over Loki's latest _tantrum?"_

"Oh, Tyr, you’d of course know nothing about madness _or_ arrogance," Loki sneers, ignoring Sif. "Driven towards nothing but slaughter, convinced of your own greatness."

"Were you not my brother, I would slam you against the wall so hard your teeth rattled," Tyr says moodily. "But you will not put me off. No--a tantrum this is not. Both my brothers have those, but rarely are they united in purpose. What, then? You know father would welcome you home to rule, Thor. Why this talk of unseating him?"

But Thor, silent, looks to Loki.

"Thor believes," Loki says nastily, refusing to look back at him, or to stop sabotaging himself, "that father is unfit to bestow any gifts on his children, as he is not altogether good at choosing them."

"You little _brat,"_ Sif cries. "Are you _still_ going on about your lineage? There are worse things than being raised in Asgard as a prince. Such as being left to die in Jotunheim, perhaps?"

Loki shuts his mouth and crosses his arms and looks at the air between Tyr and Sif.

Tyr heard that story secondhand, and he mostly agrees with Sif, although if he'd had his choice in the same situation, he probably would have chosen death. But--

"Death could be preferable to a lifetime of maltreatment," Thor says softly.

Tyr snorts. "Maltreatment? Well, all right, but when has father treated any of us with much beyond condescension and disdain?"

Sif looks at Loki, and realizes that he's trying to edge toward _something,_ except she and Tyr bar the door and Thor blocks the best path to it anyway.

"What are you _playing_ at?" she snarls at him. "You've come into my house talking treason and a load of cryptic nonsense. Tell me why or, Thor’s brother or no, I’ll have you out."

"I think the latter, actually," Loki says, raising his arm to, no doubt, cast some magic or other.

"Wait," Thor says swiftly. "Perhaps if Sif and I...go elsewhere? Would you like to speak with Tyr alone, sibling?"

Loki considers for a moment, and then nods. Sif very nearly points out that it is _her house,_ but Thor keeps looking at Loki like a small injured creature that he's taken in hand, afraid it might die anyway.

Sif sighs. "Very well," she says. "Come on, Thor. Pray let your brothers know I want my house to be in the same condition on our return."

"I can only hope," Thor says. "Loki. Be well." He pushes past Tyr without another word, Sif in tow.

~

Tyr crosses his arms and regards Loki, who really does look wretched. "This is unlike you," he says. "I know you've gotten Thor into mischief before, but a direct assault on our father? This is different."

"I didn't think he'd _agree,"_ Loki says aggrievedly. "I was only angry. I didn't think Thor would be--angry as well."

"Angry at _what?"_ Tyr demands. Thor forgave their father for exiling him, and now only seems angry that Odin wants him to return home.

Loki is very pale now. "Thor discovered," he says, "that father--punished me. More than he did either of you."

Tyr frowns. "That is news indeed. As far as we knew, you knew better than to get caught. But that's hardly reason to _usurp the throne."_

"I believe Thor objects," Loki says, as steadily as he can, "to father's methods."

"What methods?" Tyr asks, but with a sinking feeling. It can be nothing good, to make Loki look like this.

"He--I," Loki starts, and then he breaks. "No, no, I can't, I'm sorry, please forget we were here, I cannot." He lurches forward, on a run for the door.

Tyr stops him. He catches him, grabbing his arm and pulling him close in what is either a violent hug or simply a hold to keep him in place. "Big brother," he says furiously, "what has our father done to you?"

Loki looks up into Tyr's young and war-lined face, and feels the weight in Tyr's one hand dragging him down, and tries not to be sick. He swallows. He says, barely more than whispering, "The wolf that took your hand."

It takes Tyr a moment. It takes him a long moment. Then he says, " _No._ That's...revolting." That is not how punishment is done.

Loki cringes. "It's not so surprising. He's the one who wanted the stallion out of our fields, is he not? It's he who rides--who rides Sleipnir. Getting beasts of his children...especially the children who are monsters themselves..."

"I would rather a Jotun for a brother than what Balder is," Tyr says vehemently, surprising himself. "You are no monster. Our father, on the other hand..." He has always followed their father dutifully, regardless of his reservations, but this is not a thing to be forgotten or pushed aside. Tyr has let himself be Odin's tool. Loki has been forced to it.

"Balder?" Loki says suspiciously. "What about Balder? Thor didn't--"

"Thor didn't need to tell me anything," Tyr says with distaste. "Balder has not grown up well."

"Of course," Loki says weakly. "But we can't unseat _him."_

"From what?" Tyr laughs. "His queen rules, while he sits mewling at her feet. As did he ever in Asgard." Balder makes him uncomfortable more than anything else, so he is cruel.

Loki is silenced, though not, as is often the case, purposely.

"I know he was your friend," Tyr says. "And perhaps one of your only allies against father, which gives me reason to hold my tongue, especially now. But I would not suggest seeking his aid." From what he understands, Loki and Balder were more than friends and more than brothers.

Loki is still for a moment longer, and then he makes a terrible small sound and drops his head into his hands. When he speaks, his voice is too high with strain.

"Oh, Tyr. I can't bear this. If I tell you any more truth you won't believe it, only call me a conspirator."

"Have I ever done so in the past?" Tyr asks roughly. Thor's friends and the rest of Asgard accuse Loki of mischief, but Tyr tends to take what he sees at face value. And now what he sees is his brother half-destroyed. "Tell me. Trust me."

Loki meets Tyr's eyes, stricken, and then the truth comes like blood from a wound. "There were plenty of times I didn’t want--there was Svadilfari," he says quickly. "But Laufey's child caught me once in Jotunheim. He and his guards--I tricked Heimdall into sleeping with me so he wouldn't tell Odin. But father I saw when he lay with Laufey, and f-father couldn't bear that, so he commanded Heimdall hold me down while he..." Loki blinks, hard. "That was Fenrir's making." He shakes his head. “But I survived all that.” He looks away from Tyr and finishes, “Only Balder was unbearable.”

Tyr make a noise like a wounded beast. " _No."_ And then, quickly, to make sure Loki knows that _no_ does not mean disbelief, "I feared he would someday do someone harm."

"I tried to halt his wedding," Loki says, barely more than a whisper. "I called him a baby and a fool and I told him he could never father heirs. I angered the Norns so they would break the engagement. I--I didn't want him to go." He is tired of telling these stories and tired of weeping and tired of himself, but he seems to have become unable to quit any of it. "He was so angry. He didn't understand, I only wanted--he raped me to prove me wrong about his _virility_. And then he left."

"I should have slain him before he had power," Tyr says angrily. "But then I loved him too much. As you did. He was too sweet, and he got away with far too much. He won't get away with this. I will handle him. I needn't tell him why, and I needn't tell you how I bloody him, if you'd rather." He looks at Loki carefully to see if any of this helps. He can remember well how quiet Loki was in the weeks after Balder left. Tyr is ashamed all over again that he ever listened to Balder.

"I don't know what I want, Tyr," Loki says. "Thor thinks it's this, but then everyone will know. Most of Asgard won't _care."_

"True," Tyr says immediately. "Most of them will think you deserved it. Thor is a fool."

"He just wants to do to father what you want to do to Balder," Loki says tiredly.

Tyr sighs and puts his arm around Loki. "I suppose you're right. And none of it will take back anything that's been done to you."

Loki looks up almost shyly. "Not that I would _mind_ unseating Odin," he says quietly. "If we could just find a reason other than me."

"And _now_ we have reason to call you scheming," Tyr says. "I'm sure that could be arranged. I can understand not wishing your most upsetting secrets to be dragged out in public."

"Thank you," Loki sighs, and then he frowns and tugs on Tyr's sleeve. " _Thank_ you," he says. "I didn't--I thought I was alone. I didn't think anyone would..."

"You're our brother," Tyr says, his voice rough. "Although perhaps you've come to believe that means very little. But neither Thor nor I would ever stand for such an assault on one we cared for." He ruffles Loki's hair. "I...am sorry about Balder. I don't know your whole history with him, as you kept it quiet enough, but I feel I should have warned you how quick he is to take things he should not in order to prove himself in one way or another."

Loki pats at his hair distractedly. "I didn't think you'd believe me."

"I believe you about Balder," Tyr says. "And why invent the rest? Besides, father has always been brutal behind closed doors."

" _Father._ If anyone else had caught him, he wouldn't have," Loki says viciously. "It was only because it was me. He couldn't bear his bastard to witness the act that conceived it."

"Now that," Tyr says, "I am not sure I believe. Father says you're a Jotun. Are you telling me you're his by blood?" It would explain Loki's form, although that has always been wont to shift and change.

This stumbles Loki a bit, because of all the things he's said, it's not the part he expects to be least believed. Except maybe even Tyr can't believe that Odin would lie with his most bitter enemy, or that someone who looks like Laufey could bear a child.

"Laufey isn't incapable of motherhood," Loki says shortly.

" _How?"_ Tyr demands. "Like you, you mean? Is that something Jotun? I assumed it was particular to you. This all sounds very fanciful." 

"Yes," Loki snaps. " _Fanciful._ Such fun. I'm sure I always changed bodies because I'd be so very well-received in Asgard. Just another freakish way to get attention. Nothing natural about it."

"Stop your posturing," Tyr says, tugging Loki's elbow. "Yes, this place brought you nothing but pain. Let us leave it at that. What do you wish done? You have no real desire to rise against father." Or so Tyr hopes.

"I am trying to say it is a 'Jotun thing,'" Loki mutters, refusing to be distracted from his point. "I am certain Laufey bore me as a mother. That we do share a father."

"Good," Tyr says, once again surprising himself. "I would have you for a brother."

 _Or whatever else,_ Loki stops himself from saying, because he does not, in fact, know that Tyr would have him in all his other forms; besides, he doesn't want to complicate things. 

He says, "I don't know yet. I--what you've heard about me. Since I fell. It's probably not all wrong. I...I haven't...I could be different tomorrow. I might want something different."

Tyr shrugs. "I've heard that you've been savaging Midgardians. I, for one, approve. At least someone in our family can act like he's supposed to. It's like Balder and Thor are barely related to us."

Loki flushes. "I think I like the mortals more than I like either of the peoples I was born to," he says.

" _Why?"_ Tyr asks. "You mystify me. Then again, you always have. Well, have your playthings. I care not."

Loki bites his tongue, but he suspects he looks as angry as he is. "They're not as strong or long-lived as us," he finally says, "but they're not without worth. Some of them, I think, possess the worth Asgard _claims_ to have for itself."

"Father says Thor has become insufferable about Midgard as well," Tyr says. "But what do I know? I've never met a race I didn't want to destroy." He squeezes Loki's arm and hopes he can make it mean _not you._

Loki doesn’t mind that, though; he is distracted by a rush of protective fear, considering what will happen if Tyr and Victor meet. Loki would stop Tyr, of course, if he were there to do it. But the mere idea that he wouldn't be there is terrible.

Loki pushes those thoughts aside, and considers Tyr's real question, and then says, "No. You're wrong. I do want father off the throne. He is a liar and he covets his own power. He sells and banishes and--and hurts his children, and he...if it was only Sleipnir, it would be nearly enough," Loki says quickly. "Odin’s steed is my child, Tyr. That's my _child._ He laughed at me when everyone else laughed, when I was...trapped as the mare, waiting to birth him. But it was Odin who sent me out, Tyr, and I'd never...there hadn't been _anyone else_ before that, and after I gave birth, father took him from me and paraded him in front of everyone and used it like a common beast. That's what he made of me. A common beast."

Tyr pauses for longer than he usually would, taking in what Loki says. He always felt uncomfortable enough with everything surrounding Loki. Finally, he says, "And what of the wolf?"

He has to know if Loki loves that child as well.

Loki laughs, startled and upset. "What of the wolf?" he asks. "When I think of him I see the bleeding stump of your wrist and remember father--" he stops fast and swallows abruptly. "Having Fenrir bound makes me _ill,"_ he hisses. "I bore him and he is mine, and he is nothing but a demon, sly and savage. How am I meant to answer you?"

Tyr makes a sound and hugs Loki to him, jostling his shoulder. "I bear the beast no ill will. He is an animal. I--I understand the urge to rip and tear until you destroy something. If there is to be any blame here, it is father's to bear."

Loki pulls away.

"Yes," he agrees. "Father is horrible. Father didn't hurt as much as Balder did, but he _is_ horrible. You know, Tyr, now that we have that fact settled between us, I think I ought to go. There's nothing I can accomplish, is there? And I've already spoiled my dignity. Madness was bad enough without e-exposing my weakness this way. Who lets himself be raped by habit?" He laughs, backing away.

"As I understand it," Tyr says forcefully, "people do not customarily _let_ themselves be raped. I suggest we do as you implied and find another reason to depose father."

Loki starts to tremble before Tyr has finished speaking. "I would love to have him gone," he says in a low voice, "but Tyr, though it makes me a coward--I am afraid of what will happen to me if we fail."

Tyr considers. Being a war leader is what he _does._ He does not believe they will fail. But Odin has led wars since before Tyr was born.

"You could always remove yourself from the front lines," he suggests. "Let Thor and me fight."

"A lady waiting for her champions?" Loki asks. "No. You must put me somewhere useful if we act. I can do things none of your other allies can."

"Then you must be brave," Tyr says firmly. "You must be willing to risk failure. What do you have in the way of other allies? I could summon an army, but I have no way of knowing how many of my generals will follow me against father."

Tyr has generals who are surely loyal to him above all else, but Odin is a rare trouble.

Loki smiles slightly. "I have Thor's allies, oddly enough. I believe some of them even like me. For mortals, they are strong." He turns his face and flushes. "I also--I have a lover. He will help. He will _be of_ help."

Loki has never had friends before, except that vile witch Amora. Tyr smiles. "A lover? A mortal lover? How can he possibly be worthy of a prince of Asgard?" 

"...storm," Loki mumbles.

"What?" Tyr demands. "Speak up, so that I can know your latest madness." He hopes he says it fondly. He has no gauge for such things.

Loki is flustered. "It's only something he said. I--I told him that I felt...like a storm that couldn’t stop. He said he’d...contain it." He looks very hard well past Tyr's head. "He does."

Tyr can understand feeling like a storm, although he cannot imagine wanting to be contained. But even he and Thor cannot fail to understand Loki in some small portion, after all these years. 

"If he does not treat you well, he can answer to my mace," Tyr says. "But it sounds as though, for now, he does."

Loki allows a quick smile, closer to a rare but sane expression Tyr recognizes. "He does," Loki says. "And he would help us, if we chose this--idiotic venture." He opens his mouth to say more, but shakes his head instead. "We can fetch Thor and Sif. If you have no more curiosity to satisfy."

"I rarely ask anything out of curiosity," Tyr says evenly. "Very well. Let us fetch them. I'm ready to make a _plan."_ He hates standing around doing nothing, and even more, he hates listening to Loki's litany of hurts.

Loki sighs. "Good. Good. I'll bring them back." He slips past Tyr to the door.


	5. the sons of asgard require some feminism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He says, "What does mother think?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: past rape, mental health, past bullying

"Thor," Sif hisses as the door closes behind them. She stops them in her bedroom, out of hearing of Tyr and Loki. "What are you doing? What has Loki said to lead you into this _insane_ humor?"

Thor sighs. He does not want to tell this tale again. It was never his to tell in the first place, and the telling makes him ill. "My father wronged him," he says after a moment.

"I'm aware," Sif says in exasperation. "Half of Asgard is aware, although not all of Asgard thinks it was much of a wrong."

"Not that," Thor says swiftly. "Before. Years before. The year he bore Fenrir."

"And this was so bad that after so long, you feel the fitting response is to _depose_ him?" Sif demands. "That's no small thing even to _say,_ Thor."

Thor sighs, tired down to his bones. He is already sick of having this conversation and he and Loki have barely begun their battle against Odin. "There have been a great many people who've done Loki the same sort of harm. And my friends have been digging it up."

Sif hesitates. "I know better than to think he was ever very happy, or to think our friends and I didn't contribute to his unhappiness. I don't truly have the right to know. Very well--I told you I would help you with Loki no matter what that entailed, and if you tell me he deserves this as revenge, I must believe that's so. I only worry, Thor, because you have been rash before. If you are wrong now it could destroy all of us."

"But this is not me alone," Thor says firmly. Even if it were, he would do it, but he doesn't say so. "My friends are on my side. And Loki's lover. And soon, I hope, Tyr."

"Doom?" Sif says sharply. "I don't know what to think of that. He's a proud man. I am not certain Loki's interests are at the heart of his willingness to help, so much as the thought of an empty throne."

"He swears it is not so," Thor says carefully. "And Loki vouches for him. I doubt Loki wants him on the throne of Asgard. He loathes this entire realm. If Doom causes trouble for us, we can easily deal with a mortal. But no. I think he is angered at our family's treatment of Loki."

"You said only _Odin,_ before," Sif says. "It will take more than a few mortals with good intentions and your brother to succeed in this. Even if he brings an army." Her lip curls. "I suppose there's no use even asking about Balder. He may have a realm at his nominal disposal but he would not know what to do with an army if Karnilla threw it at his feet."

Thor's jaw tightens as he remembers his visit to Nornheim. " _No._ I don't want his help anyhow," he snaps. "What my father did, Balder did, too. It's no wonder Loki didn't enlist my aid sooner, or Tyr's." He is shaking again.

Sif puts her hand on Thor's arm. "Thor," she says, more out of alarm than anything else. "Thor, I will help. I only meant to say I would help. And the rest of your friends will, too, once I've had my say."

Thor feels suddenly weak with relief. "Oh," he says. "That was...easy. I'd forgotten I had comrades who make things easy. My thanks." Impulsively, he pulls her into a hug.

"Thor," Sif says reproachfully, patting him until he backs away. "Your truest comrades will challenge you when they ought, I hope, but no one can think it is well with Loki, and if you believe he has been hurt--well, the Allfather has not been kind towards you since your first banishment. I would not find it hard to believe he has been unkind to the less well-favored child."

"In all of Asgard there is not a more noble creature than you," Thor says fervently, "unless it is your three companions. You will speak to them? I cannot tell this tale again." He hasn't had to tell it now, not all of it, which is a help.

"Oh, Thor," Sif says worriedly. "I am sorry. Whatever it was, I am sorry, because I don't believe anything short of terrible would make you suffer this way just for knowing it."

Thor nods, tired and ill. "I can never unmake the hurts that have been done to him. He will never be who he was before they happened."

Sif sighs and scrubs her forehead with one hand. "I told you before I was sorry I had not made things better for him," she says. "I'm sorrier now. I hope he'll have me as an ally if he won't ever have me as a friend. He could use the first; the second wouldn’t suit, even if I deserved it."

"You are a better friend to _me_ than I deserve," Thor says. "Sif, I--accept my thanks. Let us hope Loki has fared as well with Tyr." He somehow doubts it. Tyr may love making war, but he also serves Asgard more dutifully than any of his brothers ever did.

There's a knock at the door before Sif can answer.

"Yes?" calls Sif.

"I've done talking," Loki says shortly. "You can come back."

That sounds promising. Thor has heard no sounds of violence from the other room.

"We've finished as well," he says, following Loki back out. Tyr looks furious, he sees, but that is no change from how he looks after any given encounter.

But Loki, Sif sees, does not look furious, or even as though he's about to work himself into a fury. He looks anxious instead, in the tag-a-long way he did when he was just Thor's younger brother. Sif wonders how much of that eagerness to please was the natural product of being Thor's little, odd, quiet sibling, and how much was desperation planted by something worse than Fandral's teasing.

"You have my weaponry," Tyr says shortly, directing it at both Thor and Loki. "And as many of my soldiers as will follow me. I cannot promise it will be many."

Loki casts a somewhat animal look at Sif. "And you? Pity doesn't make the strongest allies, let alone the best of friends."

Sif stiffens. "I'd join in for Thor's love if nothing else," she says. "Besides, I don't know what happened to you. Thor did not tell me and I did not ask. If it was enough to convince two of your brothers to lead you on this escapade, it is enough for me to follow my friend."

Tyr gives Sif an appreciative nod, and Thor loves both of them for it.

"Then we need a plan," Tyr says. "And to test the mettle of your mortal allies. What can they do against gods?"

Loki says snakeishly, "Nothing so far. I talked to Thor's lover and all he did was try to die, and the one I talked to as a wolf just tried to kill everyone. He failed, even."

"In fairness to them, you haven't seen them fight a true enemy," Thor says grumpily. "And never all at once. They are a force to be reckoned with. _We_ are a force to be reckoned with."

"And Loki's mortal as well, I take it?" Tyr says skeptically.

"My mortal makes robots," Loki says broodingly.

" _Robots?"_ Tyr asks.

"They're very powerful," Thor confirms. "We have power at our disposal, Tyr. We can do this."

Tyr huffs out a breath and leans against the wall. "Then I suppose we are certain we _should."_ He is regarding the wrist where his hand used to be.

Sif says, "I will go where Thor leads." Loki, however, is silent for a bit too long.

He says, "What does mother think?"

Tyr and Thor laugh at the same moment, until Thor stops himself.

"Mother?" Tyr demands. "What does it matter?"

"Excuse me?" Sif says. "Why in the nine realms would it _not_ matter? She is the queen, is she not? And you have no one to replace Odin if we _do_ unthrone him. There is no reason she should not rule in his place, and if she sides with her husband you will have to defeat her, too. If you think that will go well with the people of Asgard, you are both deplorable idiots. Which would not surprise me."

Loki regards her with surprised approval. Tyr starts to say something else, but a look from Thor quiets him.

"I had not thought," Thor says, feeling as though he failed to learn even one lesson in Midgard after all. "It was foolish of me. We must speak to her now."

Loki nods curtly. Sif says, "You'd be wise to. Careful how you speak, though, or you could land us all in chains before your revolution starts."

"Then Tyr and I are both poor choices for ambassador," Thor says moodily.

"Loki should not have to tell his tale again," Tyr says, surprising Thor.

"No," Loki says quickly. "No. If you'll start a coup on--on the basis of it, I must be willing to tell it. To her, anyway. And I wish to...I don't know if she knows," he admits. "I'd rather know if she's been complicit all along."

Tyr nods. "Do you wish to find another excuse to depose father, then? I would be willing."

Thor is struck for a moment by the unreality of the whole situation.

Loki says, "I would--prefer another reason, at the front of it. But I want to talk to mother anyway."

"Then you shall," Thor says. "I know she'll see you, whatever else her feelings. After you fell, she was..." He waves his hand. "It was not well with her."

Sif sees the look on Loki's face then. She realizes, slightly horrified, that she's seen the same attitude in abandoned dogs. They grow anxious and snappish long before they forget to yearn for companionship; the look on Loki's face is the same startled, nervous hope that thin dogs display to an outstretched hand.

"I can accompany you to the palace," Tyr says. "You can hide yourself with magic, can you not?"

Thor is shocked by his brother yet again. He never expects anyone to encourage Loki's skill with magic.

Loki nods. "I ought to be able. I've concealed myself from father enough times that, I think, I can safely believe it's efficacious."

Tyr nods shortly. "Come with me, then. I can take you to mother and we can move forward with this. Faster is better. Father may not know you're here yet, but he has spies, and Heimdall sees everything."

Thor does not say that he thinks Heimdall will be silent; Loki, however, waves Tyr's worry aside. "The birds are a problem, and a few others. Heimdall won't attend to us as long as we move quickly. Never mind, though; we should go."

"I will wait here," Thor says. "Good luck, sibling."

Tyr casts a slightly annoyed glance at Thor, bows quickly to Sif, and thuds out the door.

Loki trails after him, except that as he catches up, neither Sif nor Thor, at the door, can exactly see him at Tyr's side.

Tyr strides to the palace with Loki at his side, not looking Loki's way, in case that helps Loki to hide. Tyr passes a large black bird at the palace entrance, but he doesn’t look at that either. When they arrive, Tyr goes straight to his mother's chambers. He raps on the door, finally glancing quickly at Loki. Loki seems to step into Tyr’s range of vision from the middle of it, from the middle of a deep, anxious breath.


	6. frigga and loki in odin's house

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You are speaking of the wolf," she says, trying to keep her voice even.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: past rape/incest, family abuse, disclosure

Frigga frowns when she hears the knock. No one should be disturbing her now. Tyr is locked away with Odin, discussing battle plans, and even if he's finished, he would have no reason to come to her. And Sif is busy at home with her companions. Few others seek Frigga's council.

When she opens the door to find Loki, she puts her hand to her mouth in shock. "My child," she says.

Loki has come home.

The weathered, taut, seething look that has chased Loki since Tyr first saw him in Sif's house--something he suspects has been with Loki for some time--abates when Frigga speaks.

"Mother," Loki says, his voice small.

Frigga opens her arms immediately. "Loki, come to me." Whatever has brought him here can wait for this.

For a second Loki freezes on her doorstep, arms at his sides. Then he tilts forward soundlessly, and his arms wrap tight around her as hers do around him. She is smaller than him, but she may as well be twice his size; he's just a child next to her.

"My Loki," she whispers, making it true with the certainty in her voice. "My child." She squeezes him tightly and then releases him to look into his face. He does not look ruined in any new ways; it is more that much of what he kept inside before is now plainly written outside.

Loki is tongue-tied. He glances back at Tyr to see if Tyr will leave.

Tyr hesitates. "I can--" he starts. "I'll be down the hall," he corrects with certainty. "Whenever you need me." He nods to Frigga and retreats.

She smiles at Loki and says, "Come into my chambers. Whatever we have to discuss is better discussed in private."

Loki nods gratefully and follows her there.

Frigga’s chambers temper the hard gold of Asgard’s city with softness, bending the colors into curtains and cushions and the seat where she weaves. Shutting the inner door seems to cut them off from the sounds and the space of the palace. Odin is unlikely to come here, but even if he did, it feels dangerously, untruthfully unlikely that the rooms would keep him out, keep safe.

Frigga offers Loki a seat and settles beside him. "It's been too long," she says. "And you have not been well. What brings you home now?"

"I--Thor has a plan," Loki says. "He has--he wishes compensation for...me."

Frigga frowns. That could mean a great many things. "For which wrongs?" She wishes mostly to know if Thor is misguided or not. His intent can wait.

Despite what he has just said to his brothers, it is not easy, or even easier, to broach this subject with practice.

"It is something father did to--it pertains also to Tyr, for his--do you _know?"_ he croaks. He realizes he is once again on the edge of tears, before anything has even happened.

Her fingers tighten on Loki's arm. "You are speaking of the wolf," she says, trying to keep her voice even. "Your child."

The words stop him cold. He gives her a betrayed look. "You _did_ know,” he whispers roughly. “You knew. You knew father r-"

He chokes on the word, and on the idea that his mother--

"I knew," she says, no longer steadily. "I knew, and I hated him for it. I knew, and I wept for joy when I heard you had survived your fall into a world that was not Asgard."

"You didn't tell me," Loki says, his voice breaking. He pulls his arm away from her, but he can't seem to work up the momentum to stand. "You let me--you let me be _alone."_

"And I make no excuses," Frigga says. "I will not ask your forgiveness. Odin is my king. I could not fight him, could imagine too well what would happen if you tried. I played ignorance and hoped you would believe he loved you despite what he did. I had no idea what would follow if I left the wounds open instead of allowing you to close them." Loki shakes his head through her words.

"He _stole_ me, and _lied_ to me, and he told me my kind were beasts," he cries, disbelieving. "Before I had lain with anyone he put me to an _animal,_ to save himself trouble and, and gain a _mount._ He forced Heimdall against his will to hold me down, and listened to me beg and _weep_ while he put his s-seed in me so I'd never cross him again. He cost Tyr his hand and cost me my safety and he let me _fall. He let me fall."_

Frigga puts her hands on Loki’s face, near tears to hear him say it. He has kept all of this to himself for _years._ "I know," she whispers fiercely. "He is a monster. I told him what I knew of what he’d done. I did not let him escape the burden of that knowledge, at least. I saved Fenrir from death by telling Odin to bind him instead.” She leans back. “I did all of this and none of it was enough. I have failed you, my child."

Loki, cheeks wet, says, "Thor wants to overthrow him."

Frigga takes a sharp breath. She never considered what her sons would do if they found out, because she never thought they would. "Yes?" she asks cautiously. "Does he have a plan, or just the impetuous desire to protect his sibling?"

"Very little plan," Loki says, eyeing her cautiously. "I am attempting to add that to the proceedings. You are part of my attempt."

She sighs. She had hoped--She does not know. Odin deserves to pay and pay for his crimes, and as he will never pay in guilt, perhaps this is how it must be. But it could go so badly wrong.

"If you are asking for my support," she says, "you have it. Anyone who harms my children is no ally of mine."

"I am surprised you would call me that," Loki says. He's not, truly, because he knows her, except--he is. And he has to push.

"My child?" she asks. "But you are. I raised you from the time you were a baby. I fed you and taught you and loved you. What else would I call you?"

"I thought perhaps," he says, "that I was no one's."

Frigga thinks, perhaps, that Laufey would have claimed him, but that matters little now. "You are mine," she says. "Whether you will it or no."

Loki looks away. "Thor has the drive for rebellion; Tyr has the battle-wit; but neither of them has a candidate for the throne if their coup succeeds."

Frigga raises her eyebrows. If this is truly going to happen, she must be here to guide it so it does not go amiss. "Does Asgard have no queen, then?" she asks, gently mocking.

Loki turns back swiftly, old not-so-harmful mischief kindling in his eyes. "I believe it had not entered their well-meaning minds that a queen might rule at least as well as a tyrannical king or nobody at all." He smiles hopefully. "It occurred to me, though."

Frigga laughs. "I knew it would. You know better than they the power a woman can possess. It is hard to blame them, though. There is nothing of women in them."

"And very little of good sense," Loki adds, and then winces at himself. "From what I'm told of myself, it is particularly damning for me to say so."

"None of my children have much sense," Frigga sighs. "I often wonder what I did wrong." She frowns, thinking of something that is conspicuously absent from this discussion. "You say Thor and Tyr are on your side," she says. "What of Balder? Have you spoken to him?"

The light goes out of Loki in an instant.

"Oh," he says softly. "Then that you did not know." He turns his head. “Father never thought Balder was enough like him, but it...is not so, in some respects.”

Frigga goes cold. "No," she says. "No, Loki, no."

"I'm sorry," Loki is whispering. "It was my fault. I didn't want him to leave."

Balder is Frigga’s _baby,_ her perfect child (not always perfect, no, but she kept him on the right path). This cannot be. 

"How?" she whispers. She knew he was capable of violence, but not like this.

"He was leaving Asgard," Loki explains, pleading. "He was my last--he was all that was safe. I couldn't just let him...I was cruel," he says. "I told him he'd never be a real king and he'd never father heirs, and I--the trouble with Karnilla before they left, I did that. I only wanted him to _stay,"_ Loki tries to tell her. His shoulders sag. "Except he didn't. He just--before he left, he. He was...not gentle."

Frigga curses. She allows herself a moment to feel utterly and completely defeated. She has failed both Loki and Balder and she did not even see it. When she speaks, her voice is thick with tears, "I raised a monster," she says.

"That seems to be the consensus," Loki says, feeling sick. "No one can decide which of us it is, though."

"He was my baby and I was too quick to forgive him, too lenient when he showed his flaws," Frigga says darkly. "And you have suffered for it. My poor child." She pulls Loki to her again, furious that he could ever believe he is a monster. They all have that potential, but they have not all realized it.

"Perhaps it's not that," Loki says, voice high and taut. "If these things will keep happening to me, perhaps I'm at fault. Thor said not, but he--I do wrong, do I not?"

"I think Odin did wrong in stealing you and lying to you," she snaps. She takes a breath to calm herself. "He brought you here where you did not fit and refused to tell you why. He set you up to be hurt."

Loki pauses, and considers this, and nods. "All right," he says. "I--agree that this is true. I will try to see the rest of what you mean by it."

Frigga reaches out to touch Loki's cheek. "Good. I am so very glad you've come home, Loki."

Loki makes a small noise, a huff of breath. "I can't stay," he says. "After--this. No matter how it goes. I have, I have a lover in Midgard, who is...you would dislike him immensely, mother, but he's...kind. To me. If we both live I will go home to him."

Frigga laughs, her heart lightened. "If he is kind to you, I will try not to hate him too much. I'm glad you've found a home, even if it is not Asgard." Asgard has been poisoned for Loki for a long time, she knows.

Loki gives her a quick, tentative hug.

"I am sorry," he says. "I meant to be...less trouble. I always meant to be less trouble. I'm not good at it."

She smiles and hugs him back. "I know. That is the difference between you and your brothers. They usually mean to be trouble they are."

He quirks her a smile and takes her hand up to his mouth in a kiss. "My queen," he says, "have we raked over the past enough, and can we call back my brother? He will, I guarantee, make our future at least as interesting as my sordid histories."

She laughs, as charmed as he intends her to be. "Let us do so, then."


	7. the warriors three have some valid concerns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We didn't ever _hurt_ him," Fandral scoffs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: past rape, rape culture, bullying, no one trusts loki

Loki hides himself until he and Tyr and Frigga are ensconced in Sif's house, and then he steps into sight and says, "You will not have to find someone for the throne; mother wishes to help us."

"What?" Thor says, taken aback. "You mean to--ah." He wishes he'd kept his mouth shut. Jan and Natasha would be ashamed of him. "That's a good plan," he says carefully. Loki and Sif are both scrutinizing him, with their respective brands of dissatisfaction. Sif's bursts out with its usual vigor.

"What else the plan should be, I do not know!” she declares. “I suppose you clever men have been scouring Asgard for a suitable king to replace your father?" She is glaring at Thor and Tyr. Loki is surprised, and tentatively pleased, not to be included.

"This plan is new to me, so I have done no such thing," Tyr grumbles.

Frigga laughs. "But naturally you would have." Then she becomes serious. "I do not know what you have planned, but make sure it is enough. Your father will not yield easily."

Loki rubs his forehead and says, "We can't know what Tyr's forces will be until he asks them, and if he asks any wrong one, that will be the end of us. In Midgard there's Victor and however much he can build us, as well as Thor's companions--you ought to see to that boy in the box," he interrupts himself to tell Thor. "The one I visited. We will need him, if it goes poorly."

"Bucky?" Thor says, startled. "What for?" Privately, he wonders if Bucky is likely to want to be within ten feet of Loki. They should tackle that problem soon.

Loki raises his eyebrows. "Because," he says obviously, "he and that red-haired woman are the closest things to real warriors that you have. Rogers nearly counts," he agrees preemptively, waving his hand, "but he's not nearly as ruthless."

"You _have_ real warriors?" Tyr asks. "I find that hard to believe. You and your toy mortals."

"Silence!" Thor snaps. He turns back to Loki. "You realize he won't want to champion your cause, after what you did."

"Perhaps not," Loki says, biting his lip. "Nor will your Bruce."

" _What_ did he do?" Sif demands. "I already know what you did to Bruce," she adds, directing it rather quellingly at Loki. He looks less uncomfortable than Sif thinks he ought to.

"He tried to goad the boy into killing my friend Tony," Thor says. "He tried to drive a half mad young man to murder." 

Frigga shakes her head gravely. "This is troubling news from both of you."

Thor sighs. "Loki, you should talk to Bucky. And Bruce."

"Do you think my talking to them would help?" Loki asks, prickly.

"It wouldn't help me," advises Sif.

"Your friends are too sensitive, Thor," Tyr says. "And what is _your_ Bruce?"

Thor colors. "I. Oh." He hadn't planned to telling the rest of his family this quite so soon.

"Oops," says Loki.

" _Ohh,"_ says Sif.

Frigga laughs. "What have you been keeping from us?" she chides him gently.

"Bruce is my--" Thor clears his throat. "You should meet him. He's my--my lover."

"Ha!" Tyr says.

"Laugh while you can," Loki says primly. "Thor is obviously soft, but if I can be roped into it, so can _you."_

"I had no idea Thor had taken a mortal lover," Tyr says, ignoring Loki. "And a _man._ I expected it of you, Loki, but Thor? I would have thought you believed yourself above such things, elder brother."

Thor glowers at him. "I have changed. And I was never as uncouth as you would have liked to believe me." He wonders if Bruce and Tyr will ever, ever get along.

"I'll speak to them if you wish," Loki interrupts. "Although I think I'm about done being paraded around to explain myself. Speaking of which, what _has_ father done that we can use as our just cause? I would say his tryst with Laufey might be enough, but I do not think--" He looks at Frigga. She might find spreading that story as painful as he’d find his own. And it might serve him no better.

"Treating with Frost Giants is a crime Asgard wold not easily forgive," Tyr says thoughtfully. "We need not speak of you, or of the exact nature of their interaction. But going to Laufey in anything besides anger in a time for war would not be easily forgiven."

"Enough know what I am," Loki snaps. "Do you think Asgard would not realize? Do you think they would not make me a scapegoat? I would be everything they hated, then, including the upheaval of their faith and their government. Certainly that is a good plan, Tyr, but only if you wish me to die at the end of it. If that is your aim, I'd rather you do it now than leave it to a mob."

Tyr raises his hand in what is probably apology and nods silently, not raging for once.

"But Tyr is right, it might be easy," Thor says. "Our father is not _loved._ Feared, yes, and respected, but little more."

Loki sighs. "But I don't know what he's done," he says. "I might have learned something worthwhile, but I was...put off trying to find out."

Sif says, "Well, if he's not done anything we know about, perhaps we can coax him into doing some new thing instead. That would be dangerous, and far from ideal, but if we cannot use the past..."

Thor sighs also. "Dangerous indeed, but we have very resourceful companions. I'm sure if the need arose they could work together and manage something."

While Thor speaks, Tyr very quietly puts his arm around Loki.

Loki flinches, and then looks up in chagrin. "Oh," he murmurs, too quiet for the others to hear, "you noticed what I _said._ That's unfairly astute of you, little brother."

"No one thinks I can be violent _and_ intelligent," Tyr grumbles. "Don't expect me to make a habit of it. But we can't all be as self-involved as Thor."

"Do your friends understand the nature of this undertaking?" Frigga is asking. "Do they know what they're up against?"

"Silly fool," Loki murmurs back under Frigga’s words, "I don't expect you not to notice because you're stupid; I expect you not to notice because I never let anyone notice. It's very new. I can't seem to stop it, now."

To Frigga he says, "They know Thor's strength, and they know what it is to lose to me. I do not think they can truly know Odin, however, no matter how ready they think themselves."

Frigga nods as if it's what she expected.

"But our father does not know either," Thor says, allowing himself to hope. "He underestimates mortals." He thinks of Bruce and nearly laughs. "Odin has no idea the power they possess."

"If nothing else, they're very determined," Loki says. He smiles slightly. "You all were always much easier to play with."

"I object," Tyr says, sounding as though he doesn't mean it, at least not with any real force.

Thor just feels proud of his mortals.

"I have no doubt you'll have my companions as well," Sif says, "although it may take some bullying."

Loki says, "Are you sure they won't forget which royalty they're meant to be attacking in the middle of a battle? I only ask out of self-preservation."

Thor bristles. "Whatever your implication, it is unjust. We would count ourselves lucky to have them on our side, Sif."

"Those _buffoons?"_ Tyr demands. "They won't dare rise up against father."

"I wouldn't be so sure," Loki says. "It's Thor they follow. And I'm not sure they'd dare disobey the lady, either." He gives Sif a little bow.

"No one would expect you to rebel either, Tyr," Frigga points out gently. "Not you or I. But here we are."

Tyr glowers, but he subsides.

"We should speak to our friends, then," Thor says. It's been so long since he's seen any of them but Sif, and he misses them terribly, dire circumstances aside.

"As I said before, I expect them home," Sif reminds him. "They should be here any--"

The door swings open and everyone draws back. Fandral says, "Odin's _blood._ What are you _doing?"_ He spots Loki and looks horrified, and then the queen (he looks even more so).

"Friends!" Thor cries.

Hogun looks briefly alarmed, but he settles back quickly into a tiny smile, mostly directed at Thor.

"What's--going--ON?" Volstagg booms. "Fandral, you are _blocking my view."_

"That seems unlikely," Thor says, laughing. "Oh, I've missed you."

Fandral shifts aside and fans Volstagg through the door. "Shut it, shut it," he says. "We won't be the only persons with a view for long.

"My loves!" Sif says. "Yes. Truly. Do shut the door."

Loki doesn't creep into a corner, but, without moving at all, he manages to look as though that's what he's doing.

Volstagg pulls Thor into a somewhat overwhelming hug. "I told you he'd come back!" he says cheerfully. "And Loki, too. Hello, little Loki. Feeling better from all that..."

"Genocide?" Hogun asks helpfully.

"Tut tut," says Fandral. "He didn't do _genocide._ Why, I doubt he managed more than a couple dozen of those beasts before Thor stopped him. _Good_ effort, though, old fellow." He reaches out to pat Loki's shoulder, and Loki practically jumps like a cat to get out of the way of his hand. Frigga watches them, troubled.

"My companions," Sif says in a steely voice. "Perhaps you'll quiet yourselves and listen instead of yammering." Hogun's eyebrows go up, and Volstagg opens his mouth, then shuts it.

"We need your aid," Thor says gravely.

"'You'?" Fandral repeats. He points a finger at Thor and draws it across Frigga, and Tyr, and Sif, and Loki. "You?"

"All of us," Thor confirms.

"Well!" Volstagg says, looking taken aback. "That's unusual!"

"How droll we are," Loki mutters unpleasantly. 

Frigga and Sif both frown at him, but Sif says, with her eyes still on him, "My queen, I think a few minutes' private counsel between myself and my companions may bring order to our meeting. If we may be excused to the next room?"

Frigga smiles. Sif is a bright girl, and courageous, and she has just reasserted Frigga's power in a room full of men who would just as soon forget it.

"You may," she says.

"But I--" Thor starts.

"Oh, _let them,"_ Tyr says. "Let their little band work out matters on its own."

Volstagg heads for the next room, slapping Tyr cheerfully--and very hard--on the shoulder. "As long as I get to find out what's going on," he says.

Sif leads them back into the bedchamber, and Fandral shuts the door behind them.

"Well?" he demands. "What's all this? This is _not_ what I expected for a treat at your threshold."

Hogun makes a noise of derision, but he doubts it's recognizable as that. He wonders if either of the others realize what Loki being back means. Nothing simple, that much is certain.

"First know this," Sif says. "I intend to follow Thor wherever he leads. Do you agree with this?"

"We've followed him all the worst sorts of places," Fandral shrugs.

Hogun nods. "Always."

"Thor, yes," Volstagg agrees, "but what about Loki? Whose plan is this, anyhow? And what's the plan?"

Sif begins, "Volstagg is right. Loki we have never had faith in."

"Obviously not!" says Fandral. "He's _mad."_

"Not always," Hogun tries to say, but Volstagg is too busy saying over him, "Quite right! Always up to mischief!"

"Nor," Sif says over them, and then quiets her voice, "have we ever been as kind as we might. Nor, it seems, have others."

Volstagg frowns, brought to an abrupt halt. "Well," he says, "I don't like _that."_

"Easy enough to say now," Sif says darkly.

"We didn't ever _hurt_ him," Fandral scoffs.

"You," Sif says, "started insulting him the moment you walked through the door. If you can't believe that is a hurt I hope you'll act like it is. I will, though I’ve been no better until now. But whatever we have done, Thor tells me others have done worse. Much worse. And I cannot imagine Frigga and Tyr would be easily dragged into a conflict which they thought stemmed from a malicious little lie."

"Thor can be too tender-hearted," Volstagg says, a little hypocritically, Hogun thinks. "Perhaps he's making mountains of molehills." He looks dubious, though.

"Tyr," Sif reminds them. "And--whatever his story, Loki won't tell me. I do not think there is a lie in this, my friends, at least not one he is making us."

Volstagg goes silent and crosses his arms, his brow furrowed. Hogun can see a quiet rage starting to simmer. Volstagg does not like to see things hurt.

"I promised Thor already," Hogun says quickly. "If he trusts Loki, so do I." He needed little convincing, though. Loki's face has always been expressive.

Fandral opens his mouth and snaps it back shut. "As long as the boy doesn't try to kill _us,"_ he says, "I'm happy to hear this out. Not that Loki could kill us if he tried," he adds.

Sif rolls her eyes, but she says, "Good. Because the enemy in this case is Odin."

"WHAT?" Volstagg roars.

Hogun makes a noise of shock.

"I think," Fandral says, "you are losing me, my dear." His face is less cheery than his voice.

"I suppose no one else could lay a hand on that slippery little beast except his own family," Sif says. "I didn't ask for details. I almost asked, and Thor nearly broke down before me. Do not tell me, at least, that you think Loki has acted for his own entertainment. There is something here, my friends, and our friend wants us to help him fix it."

"It's not that I think it's a lie," Volstagg says dubiously, "it's just the next bit that troubles me."

"Fighting Odin," Hogun agrees.

"Don't _SAY_ it!" Volstagg yelps.

"Oh, Od--" Fandral starts to say, green, and then stops abruptly. "Oh," he says, faint.

Sif waves at them. "You may deem for yourselves what our chances are. Our guests can tell you of their various plans."

"This I would like to learn," Volstagg says. "If they know of any way to--to do what you have said, I will be mightily surprised."

"For Loki," Hogun says carefully, "they will find a way." He is deeply troubled by any of the potential implications of what Sif is telling them, but it is far to too late to do anything about any of it.

" _Why?"_ Fandral asks. "No, I don't mean to be unkind, Hogun, but--Loki tagged after Thor, right enough, but Thor was barely kinder to him than we were, and beyond him Loki rarely associated with anyone but Balder and that witch Amora. Please enlighten me."

Hogun blinks at him. "Some will do it for Thor," he says. "The rest, because Loki is not evil and he must have been little more than a _child_ when these hurts took place." He clears his throat, annoyed.

That shuts Fandral up. "Very well," he says sheepishly. "I suppose I don't want him to be really hurt either. And for certain I'll stand for Thor. But--oh, Sif, beautiful Sif, you can't mean Frigga supports overthrowing her own husband? And her king!"

"I think in fact she does," Sif says dryly.

"This is all very alarming," Volstagg says. "Very alarming! But if Thor needs our aid, our queen commands it, and our love repeats that command with very forceful language, it seems we have no real choice."

"Good," Sif says. "Then let us go back to the others and tell them so. I'm sure they're all worried by now that you won't bother throwing your might. And _you two,"_ she stops Fandral and Volstagg, "must mind your tongues. Don't think correcting a greater wrong excuses you any small ones."

"Loki's a very sensitive fellow," Volstagg grumbles. "It makes it hard to know when he's been offended!"

Hogun disagrees and treads on Volstagg's foot to tell him so.

"I'm not saying I _like_ him any more than you do," Sif says. "But something's been done wrong, my friends, and if we were too blind to stop it then, we ought certainly to make amends now."

"I would make amends by smashing the heads of those responsible!" Volstagg says. His face immediately falls. "It's just a pity that's apparently the Allfather."

"I don't think anyone is happier about it than you," Sif says. "Come. We'll return to the others and you can ask them your questions if you need further persuading."

Hogun nods and tries to shepherd the others back into the other room. He hopes they'll keep their mouths mostly shut, but he also knows it's unlikely.

Volstagg sighs and says, "Very well, I'm going. But I'm not pleased."

 _"You're_ not pleased," Fandral echoes. Sif smacks him on the back of his head, but there's no time for any words that might make it useful.

~

"Well?" Thor asks when they return. He trusts his friends (and more to the point, he trusts Sif to handle the others), but he knows Loki hasn't made himself popular of late.

"I am with you," Hogun says before the other two can get anything out. He directs it at Loki, not Thor. Loki is barely paying them mind, but he snaps to attention as soon as Hogun speaks. He doesn't answer, even with a nod, just looks slightly incredulous and somewhat worried.

"Oh, Thor," Fandral says, "I don't know what you're playing at, and if you weren't practically family I'd keep out of what is _clearly_ family business, but you know I can't resist you. I'll help. Even though I'm _dying_ to know what these so-called wrongs are."

"Fandral!" Sif starts.

"We promised Sif we'd behave!" Volstagg says helpfully. He turns to Loki. "I don't know what's happened to drive you to this, but it's clear you haven't been acting right. What happened before your fall was not your normal mischief."

"Are you begging for illumination?" Loki asks. It's not helpful, but Thor's friends won't stop making him nervous just because he's meant to recruit them to the cause.

"Sif didn't know," Volstagg says. "It might be nice to have some idea, if we're going to take a risk this big."

Thor's heart sinks.

"No," Hogun says. "We have no questions."

The look Loki gives Hogun is more grateful and more anxious than the one before.

Fandral says, "Well, _I_ have a few," but he is cut off.

"Is my word not good enough?" Frigga asks. "I have served Odin and sought no power over him. If I tell you his crimes are terrible enough that I would break faith with him, is that not enough for you?"

Hogun gives her a little bow. Volstagg, however, still looks dubious.

"It's not that we disbelieve _you,_ my queen," he says. "But--Well, Loki _has_ been known to exaggerate before. Once or twice." He sounds as though he is trying to convince himself.

"This is no lie," Tyr snaps, pushing himself off the wall where he's been leaning. "Must we continue with this? We have all vouched for him."

"Yes, but I've lied and got away with a thousand things before this, haven't I?" Loki says waspishly, which reminds everyone that the subject of conversation is in the room. "No doubt I'd know what pathetic story to tell my family if I wanted them to aid me in my petty revenge."

Thor squeezes his eyes shut. "Don't do this," he begs. He just wants this to be easy, but no part of it can be. He wishes Bruce were here.

Volstagg is looking doubtful. "I doubt you could convince the queen, though."

"Ah, but she's so _sentimental_ towards the children everyone else hates," Loki hisses. Frigga's mouth thins, but she doesn't rise to the bait.

"What what of me?" Tyr says. "What violent little lie will excuse my interest in helping you? Loki, stop this."

"I'm only pointing out," Loki says tightly, "why there might be _cause_ for disbelief."

"At least that's true," Fandral says. He rather hopes that if they goad him enough, Loki will spill the secret that's got them all here, that it will be a blatant lie, that everyone will stop this mad talk of overthrowing and just throw Loki in prison. Or back into Midgard. Whatever.

"I could not disbelieve it," Tyr says darkly. "Balder is fully capable of monstrosity."

He glowers at everyone who looks shocked.

"Balder?" Fandral says blankly. "What's this about _Balder?"_

Loki is getting more and more fretful, Sif notices, and Frigga's mouth, already a tight line, seems at once to hold back tears and rage. Tyr and Thor both look angry and ill.

If this is a lie, it is a very successful one.

"We should not--" Sif says.

" _Why not?"_ Fandral asks. "Hard to defend a revolution if someone asks what in Hel you're doing and you _don't know the answer."_

"I agree with that," Volstagg says, but still doubtfully. Everyone is being alarming and too many of them look upset.

"It matters not," Thor says, pleading. "Friends, please, take my word for it." He wishes they were a different sort of men.

"I trust _you,"_ Fandral says to Thor. "I trust her majesty. I don't trust _him_ at all, and to be honest I don't trust Tyr much either."

"You are the last person," Loki says, gritting his teeth, "to whom I would ever want to give the truth."

Thor is about to say something, too, but Tyr makes a noise like _hnn_ and shoves Fandral against the wall.

"Things were done to Loki that should not be done to anyone," he growls. "Things that I, the god of war, would never do. If you wish to drag the details into the open, please, continue."

Fandral would like to say, _Well, I would like to!_ but he realizes from his position that this would be very, very stupid. No one else seems like they're about to argue with Tyr's right to hold Fandral here, either, or his right to possibly do him more violence.

"There are simply," he explains, "plenty of adventures I'd go on with no second thought. It is only--this goal is not glorious, or pleasant, and even if it goes well for us we may be cut of our honor forever."

Tyr lets Frandral go with a noise of disgust. "Honor. Honor is about defending the innocent and correcting wrongs. If we have failed in the first, we may at least do the last."

Volstagg gives Loki a hopeful look. "It might be better to drop the whole thing," he says half-heartedly.

"You're quite right," Loki says. "It shouldn't be done at all."

Loki looks to Sif as though he's about to vanish into thin air. But Frigga says calmly, "Do I not, as you said, have sufficient complaint that my husband treated with Laufey? He is my husband, and in that he failed; as father of Asgard, he failed as well. If I make this complaint it will stand, and if I keep Loki behind me and claim him as mine, and all my sons and all my sons' companions, who will argue against my cause?"

Volstagg looks at her, speechless. Then he says, "Ah. Well. No one?"

"I hope not," Frigga says.

"Mother," Loki says, shaken.

"My child," Frigga says, "if every creature in this room ends this squabbling in cowed complacence, I will still go to war for you. Odin has wronged us both, and finally he will pay for it." She is very tired of sitting still and waiting for the storm to pass.

"I am with you," Sif says, and this time she remembers to look to Loki as well. Loki looks shocked. She remembers his whole life, and wonders how many times she should have stopped dismissing him as an irritating child and weighed any of his words.

Volstagg steps forward and then, surprisingly gracefully, gets to one knee. "As am I," he says, looking chagrined.

Thor smiles faintly. Volstagg has never been one to ignore someone's pain when it is this obvious.

"Oh, for--" Fandral says. "Of course I'll...what do you _mean_ 'treating with Laufey'?"

"She _means,"_ Volstagg starts, eyes wide. "Well--Don't you think she means--?"

"Ugh," Hogun says under his breath.

"Ohhh," says Fandral on an intake of breath. "Oh. Oh, that's--"

"Please," Loki sneers. "Keep going." Loki, the smallest and best-hidden Frost Giant. Just so.

"He's a very bad man," Fandral finishes. "Odin, I mean. The king. Hah!" He feels slightly more hysterical realizing that their king, whom they wish to overthrow, has a history of bedding Jotuns.

And adopting them. Little runty ones of them. Huh.

"A bad king, too," Hogun says softly. "Both things. Bad father."

"Bad everything," Volstagg agrees.

"I take it that means we're definitely going to revolt, then!" Fandral says.

"Ugh," says Sif. "Finally."

Frigga smiles, first at all of them, and then at Loki. He very nearly smiles back, which is the first most of them have seen him smile and mean it in--years. In at least a year.

Thor, grateful and upset and impulsive, tugs Loki into a hug.

"Oh, don't," Loki says, which doesn't sound mad or rageful or conniving at all. It sounds a lot like Thor’s little brother.

"So this is the first part of our plan," Frigga says. "Thor, you must talk with your companions in Midgard; Loki, you see to your gentleman whom I won't like at all; Tyr, to your soldiers, but you must be the most careful. We must all be careful. A slip will cost us."

"What of Heimdall?" Fandral asks. "What if we've all been betrayed already?"

"He won't pay us mind," Loki says with surprising certainty. "He'll only not help outright because he's bound to the king. He'd rather serve mother, if we could break him of his bonds."

"Truly?" Volstagg asks. "What makes you think so?"

"I think so as well," Thor says firmly. "Let us have no more questions. We know what each of us must do."

"He saw," Loki says. He withdraws, visibly, and has to fight his way back. "He saw what father did, but he couldn't--stop it." He grimaces. "We have his guilt on our side."

Frigga pales. Thor remembers how _ill_ Heimdall looked when he told Thor his tale, or told Thor the parts around it. Heimdall will not betray them.

"Good," Volstagg says. Then, "Well, not _good._ But you know what I mean." He looks uncertain. Loki nods curtly.

"We should end this meeting now," Frigga says. "Let us not test our luck, Heimdall or no. Loki?"

He attends.

"Come to me," she says. He does, and she hugs him close and leaves a kiss on his cheek. "Whatever this brings," she says, "I am so glad to have you back to me." He bites his lip and she pats his cheek.

Thor leans in to hug his mother quickly. "I shall return to Midgard," he says. "Loki, after you speak to--to Victor, would you like to come and speak to Bruce and Bucky? Then I think your work will be done."

"Oh, good," Loki says, and he is being flippant, but the enormity of everything catches up to him for a moment, and he suspects Thor can see it in him. "We should go, then," he says. "I'd rather see your friends first, though."

Thor smiles and takes Loki's elbow. "Then we shall." He nods to his friends. "We will meet again soon. Tyr, good luck." And he propels Loki out the door before anything becomes more overwhelming.

When Thor and Loki return to Heimdall's station on the Bifrost, he says only, "Do you return to Midgard?"

"Yes," Loki answers.

"Then may you find what you seek, children of Odin," Heimdall says, and casts them down.


	8. bruce isn't angry in the way loki expects

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor’s mortal is an uncrackable nut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: references to parental death, past rape/abuse, everyone suddenly remember Bruce Banner's pre-Hulk backstory

When there are too many things to be worried about, Bruce likes to tidy. Putting everything in its place slots every problem into its compartment in his thoughts. While Thor is gone, Bruce goes to the lab he quit working for months ago, and finally clears out the few things he left behind there (a couple of notebooks, some equipment no one has bothered to clean up—the umbrella is long gone). Then he goes home and waits by making tea and cleaning the bathroom and trying to work out exactly how much work will need to go into fixing that dent Hulk made in the bedroom wall an embarrassingly long time ago.

While he works, he balances a number of terrible problems.

Loki is at the center of it, of course. Thor is forming a permanent crease in his forehead fretting over everything; Tony has unburied something that probably needs to be unburied, but there’s no guarantee he won’t fall apart at the wrong time. Loki is a wildcard, which is never something Bruce likes, but he is also wounded, and there some kinds of violence that Bruce understands too well to hold against the perpetrator. Bruce himself is tidying until something more directly useful presents itself, keeping Hulk banked.

Bruce is picking through receipts (not something he ever used to keep, which just goes to show) when Thor returns.

“I’m home,” Thor says, smiling in the doorway. Loki is behind him, looking smaller than he did in the library, less confident, and no less made of edges. He is looking at Bruce with an unnervingly even gaze, like he hasn't decided yet if one of them is prey.

Bruce’s mouth thins in consideration. He goes to the door and shuts it behind them. 

“Any success?” he asks. “You look like you’ve had a long morning, although I see nobody is crying.”

Thor smiles and gives him a quick kiss. “It went well. I will tell you more later. For now, I think you and Loki should speak. I’ll make tea." Loki looks about to protest, but he purses his lips and crosses his arms and nods at Thor instead.

Bruce looks Loki over, suppressing the instinctive urge to balk at someone who, last seen, nearly killed him. It’s amazing, he thinks, that anyone could ever have thought this person wasn’t hurt. He can see the pent-up version of the Loki he met first, raging and pushing and at least as frightened as he was angry. There’s little more dangerous than that, of course, and it’s not an excuse, but Bruce wonders why no one who knew Loki ever looked for the thorn in his side.

Bruce smiles, in the way which (he is aware) is warm without making it all the way to his eyes. "Have a seat." He gestures to the kitchen table, because it’s still all there is, and sits down in a chair on the other side.

"Thank you," Loki says, and does. He looks around (checking that it's safe, maybe), and finally settles his gaze on Bruce. He says, "At least I didn't succeed in making you kill anybody."

“Only barely,” Bruce says. 

"That's not true," Loki says promptly, looking ill. “You’re terribly strong-willed.”

Bruce says, side-stepping what he thinks is a statement of fact rather than a compliment, “You _did_ almost kill _me.”_

Loki looks at his hands where they're crossed on the table. There's something in Bruce's tone that makes him feel he's a small child, caught being naughty. He tries very hard to cover that feeling up with the recollection that if he _had_ killed Bruce Banner, it would have been terrible. 

"You matter, to Thor," he says.

"I do," Bruce confirms, and he waits. 

"Thor," Loki explains, "was the only one I could safely hurt."

Bruce exhales. "Of course he was.”

"I don't want pity," Loki says.

Bruce says, "That's not what this is. But I’m on your side, so you don’t need to bother charming me onto it, either." 

"What's wrong with you?" Loki asks. "I almost killed you and all it takes is a sad little story to win you over." He doesn't say it nastily. He just sounds tired.

“Don’t diminish it,” Bruce says, carefully expressionless. “Parents like Odin deserve whatever payback they get. I’d prefer it if you didn’t try to kill me again, though.”

"Hmph!" Loki says, startled by Bruce’s ruthlessness and embarrassed at himself. "Neither—I’m not...I was _insane,"_ he finishes, looking vexed.

"Yes," Bruce agrees. He offers a small smile. “You seem better than before.” Loki’s eyes are clearer. He looks exhausted.

Loki shivers. "I have to talk to the other crazy one when I’m done with you," he says, blinking. "One after another after another. Explain why we shouldn't hate you, explain why we should help you, these are all the things you've done _wrong."_ He wouldn't sound so vicious if he didn't know that the explanations were true, and he deserved it to be difficult.

"Tell me about it," Bruce says.

Loki frowns, opening his mouth to answer and shutting it again when he works out that the phrase is rhetorical. After a moment, he says, “Oh! Yes. The Hulk. Of course you know about collateral damage.” He grimaces. “Perhaps I could put off any direct apology to him?” 

Bruce laughs, a deep little chuckle. "Oh, yes. I think that's fine. You’ve had a busy enough day already. Tea?" Thor has stopped bustling and is edging back into the dining room with a tray of mugs and a teapot. He’s gotten endearingly familiar with the ritual of tea.

Loki sags a little, half because yes, it has been a horrifically long day, and half because Bruce Banner is exactly the good, quick, painfully honorable person Thor seems to think he is. 

"I don't--know," he says haltingly.

"We’ve been known to pour a cup of tea without forcing anyone to drink it," Bruce says with a wry smile.

Loki takes a deep breath and flattens his palms against the table.

"I told my brother," he says, "not that one," he waves at Thor, "but the other one worth mentioning, that I thought I might like mortals better than either of the races I was born to. You're very--resilient."

 _Kind,_ is what he means.

"We'd better hope so," Bruce says, but the compliment catches him off guard. It's true, but he didn't expect it from Loki, not even this shakey, real Loki who is made of more than his anger. It's nice. And it’s a confirmation of what Bruce already knew--that Thor isn’t just on Loki's side because they happen to be family.

Loki laughs, surprised, but he quickly grows serious again. "I have no right to ask anyone for this," he says. "Nor for anything else."

"You’re not asking," Bruce says bluntly. Which is true, and Bruce hopes it isn’t a problem later.

“You have no reason to do anything for me, whether I ask or not,” Loki says stubbornly. Thor’s mortal is an uncrackable nut. Loki can’t imagine saying these things to anyone else he’s trying to ally himself to, but it’s impossible to get purchase with Banner. He supposes that’s only to be expected, in a man who’s made indestructible calm his life’s pursuit. His even temper is entirely conscious, built by force of will, and it’s _real_. Loki has never done so well. He can't work his way into the cracks any better now than he could when he was trying to wound.

Bruce frowns very hard at the table. "I have no pity for parents who hurt their children," he says. “I’ll take it on faith that Thor knows what kind of a good turn you deserve. If you need this, I have no problem helping you get it.”

Loki bites his lip. "All right," he says lightly. "But I am sorry."

Bruce smiles. "You’re forgiven." He cocks his head. "At the risk of being forward, you ought to go home and get some sleep. You look beat.”

Loki shrugs. "Soon," he says. "But you're not the only one of my brother's friends I’ve tried to drive to murder."

"Oh, yes." Bruce winces. "Well, good luck with that. Fair warning—Bucky is a good guy, but isn't always the pushover I am."

Loki snorts, because Bruce is nothing like a pushover. He just rolls with the punches better than anyone Loki has ever met. 

“I’ll bear it in mind," Loki says. He drops his cattish expression and says, "Could I—perhaps I could have tea before I go."

Thor comes into the room, finally, in a not very subtle burst of enthusiasm. He sets the tea tray down and pours Loki a cup. Loki takes it, looking tentatively pleased and managing half a smile for his brother. This part, Bruce thinks, is an unquestionable good thing.

Loki sips at his tea while they pour theirs, looking awkward and gangly in a way he didn’t, when he was crazy and too fierce to hesitate at anything.

"This isn’t an entirely predictable circumstance, is it?” he ventures. His cheeks are pink from the steam. 

Bruce gives a startled, not-at-all-nervous laugh. "No, I suppose not. I didn’t expect you to settle down so nicely, after last time.”

Loki looks surprisingly smug. "To be fair," he says, "neither did I."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As an extra present, there is a side-story about Frigga, Fandral, and Amora knowing Loki's business: [Three Times Loki Couldn't Keep A Secret](http://archiveofourown.org/works/397596/chapters/654145). Happy Avengers day, America-dwellers!


	9. loki can do this just one more time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This isn't his language, that he's forcing himself to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: past rape/incest, rape culture/victim blaming, bad mental health

When the door to the lab opens, Bucky has, for the hundredth time, been working himself into a fit of anxiety over being left alone again. He's bad at telling how much time as passed, and it’s almost worse, now, waiting in limbo, because he knows he’s _probably better_ , and it’s driving him nuts to be locked up. As scared as he is of hurting somebody, it’s getting to where he’d do almost anything just for a breath of fresh air. He’s got to explain to Pym and Natasha--at some point, all this precaution is going to make him lose his mind, _again_.

It's just Thor at the door, though. Thor and someone else, who looks about as anxious as Bucky. The other man has huge, sad eyes and he's hovering at Thor's shoulder like he's about to bolt. _Poor kid,_ Bucky catches himself thinking.

"Bucky!" Thor says cheerfully. He looks exhausted, though. "I have someone who wishes to speak with you."

Loki edges past Thor and says to Bucky, "I came to apologize. I hurt you before."

"Huh?" Bucky says, riffling through his memories for what this guy could possibly be talking about. He's met a lot of people. A lot of them have hurt him. Then he looks at Thor and looks at the guy's outfit and realizes.

" _You're_ Loki?" he demands. He's already backing up against the far wall of his chamber without meaning to. There's something about the wolf that Loki was that sends deep, animal panic through him. But human Loki just looks tired and sad. It's jarring.

Loki swallows. "I wasn't, when I met you," he says. "I was--being someone else."

"Someone fucking nasty," Bucky spits. He's trembling, and he can't pass off the fear as rage.

"Yes," Loki agrees. His hands are clasped in front of him, and it takes a second glance to realize how hard they're clenched.

"He's apologizing," Thor says.

"You should be elsewhere," Bucky says snappishly. "I mean, I don't really want you here making excuses for the kid." The last word isn't his choice, it just happens.

Thor looks wounded. "Perhaps it would be safer if I stayed." He looks to Loki.

"Go," Loki says. "I'll find you."

Thor nods and ducks out, looking unhappy about it.

"So," Bucky says, crossing his arms. He's still backed against the wall. "The big bad wolf came to say sorry. Are you really sorry? For nearly making me _murder_ my best friend's lover?"

There are some searingly self-destructive responses Loki could make to this, but he truly does not want any more distrust and disdain today, not after Fandral and Volstagg. And Bruce went so _disarmingly_ well.

"Yes," he says quietly.

"Touche," Bucky says. "Because that was--I could _feel_ myself going crazy. Do you know what it's like to have your mind not be your own? To have people pulling on whatever strings they feel like to make you dance to whatever tune's in season?"

"No," Loki says. "They didn't mean to drive me mad. They were done with me by the time it happened."

Bucky blinks, momentarily thrown. "Are you _kidding_ me? You're going to tell me a sob story about how _hard_ you had it so you just _had_ to turn into an asshole who tries to ruin people's lives?" He's still shaking, but now he's mad.

"No," Loki says. "You asked if I knew what it was like to go mad. I do."

Bucky sighs and unclenches his fists. "Yeah. I guess that doesn't surprise me too much." Loki's eyes are not right, he thinks. Or at least they're not _happy._

Loki is keeping carefully far away, even with the barrier of the glass between them. "I don't have any excuses," he says. "I only wanted to apologize. I'm glad you didn't kill anyone. I'm sorry you would have. I'm sorry I did that to you." His sentences sound stilted. This isn't his language, that he's forcing himself to speak.

"This is weird," Bucky says suspiciously. "Why are you doing this? You didn't seem sorry when you were doing it."

He's still having trouble reconciling this Loki with the wolf Loki. They don't move the same, they don't talk the same.

"I wasn't," Loki says. "I--Thor hadn't found out yet." _Too honest._ Too close to a sob story.

"Thor hadn't found out?" Bucky asks, half-sneering, still scared as hell.

"No," Loki says. "I don't mean about _you,_ I wanted him to find out, that was the entire purpose of visiting you. I mean--other things." He waves his hand like he's batting off an insect.

"Oh, gosh, well, _things,"_ Bucky says. "I'm guessing Thor's _things_ are what he went to Latveria to find out and why he's dragging you here to have a little chat with me." His heart is beating too fast.

Loki grips his arms to his sides. "He didn't drag me here. I asked."

"I guess," Bucky says slowly, "I guess I just don't get _why."_ Why would a fucking _god_ come and apologize to a tin soldier locked up in a cage? He frowns uncomfortably, not sure whose thought that is.

"It wasn't your fault," Loki says derisively. "And I haven't always--I got lost. What you've seen is not...I wasn't _like_ that."

That, Bucky can believe. This isn't the wolf. Not at all. "But look, by all accounts you aren't exactly sunshine and roses, even when you're not being a wolf. I mean, no one was _surprised_ by that."

"Who's surprised by you?" Loki snaps, and then looks flustered.

Oh. Bucky can see the wolf now. He can see where the edges meet, anyway. "The important people are," he says quietly.

Loki doesn't manage to hide his expression quickly enough. "Well," he says. "All right. No one is surprised by me."

"But they trust you," Bucky says slowly. "Or, well, Thor does. And Stark trusts you enough to let you into his building. So what's that about?"

"I don't know," Loki says. "They're fools. They pity me. I don't know." He doesn't sound happy with it.

"Pity?" Bucky asks. "Why? I mean, I barely know you, so I don't know your shit, but all I've heard is that you like to cause trouble."

Loki is fed up with this, himself, and everyone.

"Because," he says shortly, "as they’ve just learned, my father and my brother Balder both raped me. One left me with child and one left me alone. The child was a wolf."

Bucky takes a sharp, jagged breath. "Oh, fuck," he says. "Fuck." Suddenly he feels like he doesn't know where the hell he's standing or what conversation they're having.

"There were others," Loki says ruthlessly, "but they don't sound as horrible. They weren't as horrible. And there was the horse, but that was practically a joke in Asgard when it happened, and of course I am the product of my father's illicit affair with the ruler of his worst enemies, but he didn't bother telling anybody that his newly adopted baby was his, or a Jotun, only that Jotuns are still just as grotesque and evil as everyone has always thought they are." As he speaks, his words move faster and his skin chills. By the time he's through, his eyes and skin have shifted hue to something darker and colder and less human.

"Fuck," Bucky breathes again. Now Loki looks more like a god. "God, I'm--I'm sorry, that shouldn't--" It's like the world's most horrible myth is come to life and standing in front of him with sad eyes.

"I tried to ruin you," Loki says hoarsely. "I tried to ruin Thor's lover as well, because Thor cares for you and he didn't save me, because you've done terrible things but you're not evil, because if I pushed you over the edge I could get revenge for not being--caught. When I fell."

Now that Bucky has all the pieces, he feels a little different about the whole thing.

"Are you okay now?" he asks quietly. He doesn't know which part of him prompts him to ask that. As far as he knows, none of them have the words for this kind of thing. Maybe he's borrowing someone else's skin, too.

Loki stares at him, and the blue bleaches out of his skin. "I don't know," he says. "I was holding it back and then Thor cut it out of me. I think I might be sane, now, but I--I'm tediously unhappy." He laughs. "I'm sorry. I doubt you wanted an answer."

Bucky comes forward till he's right up against the glass. "Actually, I think I kind of trust you now. Thanks. And--sorry. Really, mostly that. Sorry. That's about the worst thing I can think of."

He would rather be brainwashed a hundred times than betrayed by people he was supposed to trust.

"Don't," Loki says. "Please."

Bucky nods, adjusting. "Then how 'bout I just say if there's anything I can do to the bastards, I will?"

Loki laughs again, a little more convincingly, and leans his face against his hand. It's oddly feminine. "You'll accuse me of being disingenuous now. Thor has decided to raise an army against Odin--our father, the king of Asgard, you see. I've thought how useful you would be. But I wouldn't--" He flinches and tries again. "I used you before and I won't do it again. The force exists. You're welcome in it."

This is Bucky's language. And it might be his place. "If they let me out," he says carefully, "if they think I'm _safe,_ that my mind belongs to me, I'd like that. I'd like it a lot."

Loki looks intensely interested at that, but he doesn't explain himself, just tucks it away and addresses Bucky's words. "Midgardians are so odd," he says. "I don't know what I've done to make any of you be--kind."

"I'm not kind," Bucky says. "Or I haven't been. Not all the time." He tries to think of what Steve would say. "But I think maybe it's just in our nature."

"I really _do_ like mortals better," Loki muses. He blinks at Bucky. "Should I leave you? Have I been alarming? I mean to be, here, but no one ever found me so at home."

"You're a hell of a lot less alarming when you're not being a wolf," Bucky says. Actually, right now Loki looks a little put out, and it’s practically charming. "And I'd rather you than Pym, to be honest. But I should probably talk to someone I know for a little bit." He laughs and gestures obscurely. "Just to, uh, get anchored again. Sorry."

"Yes," says Loki, backing up a step. "A friend. Of course. I--thank you."

"You can thank me when I've won your war," Bucky says steadily.

It's easy to see how much that jars Loki, but he covers it up with a nod. "I suppose I'll see you again before long," Loki offers, and eases out into the hallway without a proper goodbye.

~

Thor drops Loki off at the Latverian embassy, and Loki lets himself in. He is always tired, but he can't remember being this bone-weary in a long time. He isn't sure if what's under it all is good or bad.

He seeks out Victor and finds him in the study upstairs.

"Well, that was long," he says.

Victor is on his feet without thinking, examining Loki for visible hurts. There won't be any, of course.

"Tell me those pathetic fools didn't drag you through your childhood trauma over and over," he says, gripping Loki's arms.

"I don't believe it was the plan," Loki answers.

"They never think," Victor says angrily. "Sit down. I'll get you a drink."

Loki sits. "I talked to my mother," he says. "And Tyr and Thor's loathsome friends, and his Bruce, and Rogers's pet, the one I was a wolf with. But it was good to talk to my mother."

Victor exhales and sits besides Loki, trying not to be angry. "Your mother? You never mention her."

"I suppose she's not my mother, is she?" Loki says, as though this is a new thought to him. "It was the king of the Jotuns who bore me. It was Frigga who raised me, though. And she saved Fenrir's life, as it turns out. She knew whose he was. Preserving him is a punishment to Odin."

Victor raises his eyebrows. "I like her already." He tends to feel kindly toward mothers anyhow. "What next, then? Are we going forward with our plan to overthrow Odin?"

Loki swings around to hook his knees over the chair's arm, and leans his head against its back. "I suppose so," he says. "That's what everyone seems to have decided on."

Loki is being worryingly passive. Victor, who has taken to forgetting his mask around Loki, wishes he had it.

"I will help, of course," he says.

"Oh, I know," Loki says absently. "Did you know how easy it is to gain people's help when they know you've been violated? Easier than I would have expected. I expected even Thor to call me a vicious liar. Even that boy in the Tower, he's up in arms because my life is worse than his. Well--up in _arm."_

"Everyone has their taboos," Victor says cautiously. "Most people tread carefully enough around the topic of rape that they wouldn't dare call you a liar." He doesn't know what Loki's thinking, and that concerns him.

"They usually do," Loki points out, shutting his eyes. "Rape usually _makes_ you a liar; and even if it’s true, complaining makes you awfully ungrateful.” He opens his eyes long enough to glance at Victor, and shuts them again. “My stupid brothers. They didn't even think that perhaps Frigga, who is _already queen,_ could rule when Odin is overturned." He doesn't look angry, though.

Victor barks out a laugh. "Oh, _yes._ That's perfect. I'm sure she deserves to." It's tidy. This entire thing is almost too tidy.

"Her problem lies in being a woman," Loki says. "She must stand at the front of this battle, or she will still be seen as as the weak weaver-woman who shadows Odin's shoulder--but now shamed and dishonest."

Victor nods. "Well, any aid I can offer..."

"Everyone wants your help, Victor," Loki says. "The queen asked specifically. They want you to build your army and bring it to Asgard. The Avengers, I think, will not be enough."

Victor laughs, low and pleased. "Oh, _yes._ Yes, I would gladly do that." He's waited for a chance like this. This is where he belongs, among gods. He frowns. _No matter_ the circumstances.

"Yes, a fine opportunity for you," Loki murmurs, eyes still shut.

Victor stops being pleased. Everything feels suddenly very discordant, this sad, quiet young man and the iron-clad maker of monsters in the same space. Victor has never been afraid of hurting Loki before. Not by something he did intentionally.

Loki opens his eyes to the silence and considers Victor's expression. "I don't know if I'm too much for you or too little," he says thoughtfully. "No matter; it's usually both." He swivels gracefully out of the chair and onto his feet. "I think it's time I sleep, Victor. You may come if you like, but I shan't be interesting company."

"Perhaps you can sleep and I can watch," Victor mutters, following Loki like a puppy. Or like a beast, stalking after him, just far enough behind that he isn't obviously dangerous.

Loki doesn't answer that, or try to touch him. By the time he reaches the bedroom they've settled in, he's slipped the armor and dressed himself in a robe; he crosses the room to the bed and practically falls into it. Sure enough, his eyes shut as soon as his head hits the pillow. Victor shudders. Loki has been through a series of bad days, but that's no excuse for this kind of _trust._

Victor doesn't leave, though. He stays to watch Loki sleep.


	10. victor von doom can get things wrong

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What place does a carefree half-god have in his life for a man like me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Mental unhealth, being ill.

When Loki wakes up, he feels rested and ill. Victor is asleep next to him, sitting up against the headboard with his legs crossed and a stern expression on his face. He must have worried. Loki doesn't disturb him, only eases out of the bed and down the hall.

Everyone knows everything that has happened to him (well--some things), and they are going to war with Odin, and Odin will know why. He'll pretend not to, or he'll admit it. Either is disastrous. Loki has talked to a thousand people in the last two days. It is going to be terrible. He is going to collapse under the weight of too many awful, spiteful ideas.

Loki puts himself in the washroom down the hall from where Victor is sleeping, shuts the door, and is horribly ill.

~

Victor awakens to find Loki gone. A wave of panic washes over him ( _he's run from you already_ ) and he's left breathless with it before he pulls himself together.

He stands, his limbs stiff from sleeping half upright in half of his armor, and goes into the hall.

"Loki?" he calls.

Loki hears Victor's voice through the door. He flushes the toilet, which won't help (and which, incidentally, is not _that_ different from Asgardian plumbing), and leans against the cold tile wall with his feet braced against the toilet and his arms wrapped around his knees. This is revolting.

Victor takes a breath and shuts his eyes. Loki just got up to go to the bathroom. Victor is being _paranoid._ He'll probably find that after a good night's sleep, Loki is back to normal, sharp and violent and quick-changing as ever.

He walks down the hall and waits, leaning on a statue. He is able to wait for several minutes, because Loki doesn't come out. Victor forces himself to be calm. 

"Loki?" he calls again.

Loki doesn't want to answer, but he is merciful. "Yes, Victor," he says, sounding long-suffering, he has no doubt.

"Just--checking," Victor says, trying not to sound worried. "I woke up and you were gone."

"I do that," Loki points out. He traces the grout on the floor with a finger.

"You slept well," Victor says. Not a question. He knows. He was awake half the night, waiting for Loki to wake up and challenge his right to _see._

Loki twitches, irritated, but it doesn't stick. "So would you," he says. "I had a long day." And he was trying to sleep off his need to do _this._

"Mm," Victor acknowledges. "Well, come out and I'll make you breakfast before you have to do anything like it again."

Loki sighs and gets to his feet and rinses his mouth out with water before he opens the door. He knows he still looks pale and shaken, but he rather hopes Victor will take that for his normal state.

Victor doesn’t. He frowns. Loki looks--for a moment--so _human_ that he's too startled to hide it. Then he says swiftly, "You don't look like someone who slept well."

"Well, I woke up poorly," Loki says brusquely. He keeps catching this look on Victor's face, and he hates it.

Victor nods shortly. "Indeed. When are you expecting to next see your brother's friends?"

"Not in the plan today, my dear," Loki says with the flash of a smile. "Unless we like. All we need do today is let his friends know you are allied to them. And then I suppose you can start building a better soldier."

Victor smiles, vicious and genuine. _That_ sounds like something he can handle. He's actually rather looking forward to working with the Avengers. They're _horrible._ He feels especially strongly on this last point at the moment.

"I don't know what I'm meant to do," Loki is saying consideringly. "Go out? Make friends? Take a nice long nap?"

Victor balks. "I--No," he says, half angry and half unnerved. "None of those things."

Loki looks startled. "You have better suggestions?" he asks.

"What happened to dressing in the skins of wolves and tearing apart lives?" Victor asks, vicious and cold. "What happened to standing on my battlements weeping and eating apples?" He doesn't _want_ the latter, but he can't say what he means correctly. He can't say _I will burn you alive if you are whole and whole means this._

Loki grows still, two bright spots high on his cheeks. "Victor," he says shakily.

"Who are you when you're sane?" Victor whispers.

"I don't know," Loki forces out. "What do you mean? What's wrong with you?"

"I simply mean," Victor says, forcing himself to keep a safe distance, "that perhaps you'd prefer the company of your nice, safe brother and his nice, safe friends to _mine."_

Loki flinches back. "Shall I tell Thor your resources are _not_ at his disposal, then?" he asks, voice chilled to the point of cracking.

"No," Victor snaps. "Don't tell him that. I want to help you. I just--perhaps you would rather--" He stops. "Are you afraid of me?" In his head he adds, _You should be._

"No," Loki snarls. "What are you thinking? Am I too sweet for you now, after one day when I am not dependent on your _affections_ alone? I was dangerous before I was made unsafe, I was not _tame,_ but at least I was sometimes happy. Perhaps you don't have the taste for that, Victor. Perhaps all you really wanted was my misery to keep me dogging your heels and begging." He is pale and furious now, feeling as ill as he did when he woke.

"No," Victor says, "no, no, I didn't mean that. I don't want you _miserable._ Only--" _As monstrous as you are, Victor,_ his mind tells him.

"What place does a carefree half-god have in his life for a man like me?" Victor finally manages.

Loki glares at him disgustedly. "Yes, Victor. It is exactly that simple. Everyone knows the terrible secret, and now we'll get revenge, and I will be all better. I'll have no need for you then, will I?"

Victor looks at him silently. "I thought so," he says. His voice comes out unexpectedly small.

Too much. Loki claps his hand across his mouth and bolts back into the washroom. The door hits its frame on his way in, but the latch doesn't catch. He loses all his dignity but makes it to the toilet, and when he stops retching he starts sobbing. Everyone, everyone is stupid, and Victor is the stupidest, and he is the one person Loki needs to _keep seeing him._

"Damn it!" Victor shouts, giving the statue a kick before following Loki into the bathroom. "Damn it, damn it, I'm sorry." He kneels to rub Loki's back, furious with himself and Loki's family but mostly with himself.

Loki covers his face and won't look up, but the noises coming from him sound dragged and bloody. He murmurs something Victor can't hear.

Victor bends closer. "What was that, my love?" he asks. The affection half in jest is an accident, a habit he has now that even this conversation can't break him of.

Loki wrenches his head up, wild and tearstained. "I thought you would want me," he says. "Even if I changed, you promised. But look, the truth; you wish to be the only thing that keeps me _broken."_

"No," Victor says raggedly. "I don't--Loki, please, that's not what I mean." He didn't mean to beg. He takes a deep breath. "I'm afraid you won't want _me._ Now. When you are whole and I am not."

"What else do you expect me to _want?"_ Loki shouts. "You stupid mortal! Do you think I would ever go back to live there? Where do you think I told Frigga I would go? She asked me if I'd stay and I said no!"

"Midgard is large," Victor says through his teeth. "There are other stupid mortals who might suit you better." But he feels sick with relief already. Relief and guilt. He had not known Loki felt...quite this way.

“ _Stop,"_ Loki says, pushing Victor away and staggering upright. "Don't you _dare._ Don't you _dare._ The worst things I've hidden have been ripped into the daylight. I have made amends to my family and friends of my enemies and I have trod over and over the things I want least to remember in my entire life, and you are telling me I should _look to someone else._ Victor, what are you trying to _do_ to me?"

Victor gets to his feet, ill and furious. "I don't--I, do you, do you want, is this--" He slams his palm against the wall. " _I didn't know."_

He didn't know there was anyone who would want this.

Loki stares at him. "I told you I trusted you," he says. "You told me I was home."

"This is your home," Victor whispers. "I am, if you want me."

"Except, when I'm not ill with crying," Loki says (and he is now), "you look at me like a stranger."

"I didn't know you before," Victor says miserably. "I didn't know if you were the kind of person who would have run from me or tried to kill me or both. I don't know what might change when you stop being unhappy long enough to see me as I am."

Loki snorts, though he doesn't look any happier and his frown doesn't lessen. "You're a murderous, arrogant, honor-bound, ambition-eaten, gruff-tongued fool," he says. "So is my brother Tyr. Why would you think that was enough to make me go running from the only person who has ever made me safe?"

Victor feels as though he's been punched. It's not an entirely bad feeling.

"Loki," he says. His voice is hoarse. "Loki. _Mine."_ Still.

"Of course," Loki says. He practices placing his palms against his thighs so they aren't visibly trembling. "I told you I was."

"I _am_ a fool," Victor says. He steps to Loki and puts his arms on Loki's shoulders. "Forgive me."

Loki's shoulders sag. "My mouth tastes vile," he says. "Next time anyone needs to know my terrible history, someone else can tell them about it."

Victor makes a scornful noise. "That's what they should have been doing in the first damned place. Who the hell asks a trauma survivor to _do_ that?" Oh, yes, the Avengers are _horrible._

" ‘Trauma survivor’? Asgard doesn't quite--is that a common concept?" Loki asks.

"Latveria doesn't, either," Victor says quietly. "But yes, it is. Here in America, and some other places. It might not actually hurt to learn something about it. People take care of their wounded, sometimes."

"In Asgard," Loki says, "there's no bad thing that you can't just sweep under the rug. That's a mortal expression. And if you can't sweep it...under the rug...you're weak. And probably to blame. Does Latveria have that?"

Victor nods. "So does America, sadly. It depends on who you ask. I know this might sound repellent to you, but you might try asking Tony Stark."

Loki's eyes spark. "No," he says quietly. "No, I think I shouldn't do that. I think it would be tantamount to what you say was done to me yesterday."

"Then clearly he's not someone who knows how to deal with trauma anyway," Victor says, a little mystified as to why Loki would _care._

Loki smiles, a small smile, and says, "They're very nice, you know. The Avengers."

Victor is, again, unpleasantly jarred. "I wish," he says forcefully, "that you wouldn't say these things. It unnerves me."

Loki laughs, properly. "Poor Victor," he says. "But it's true. They are nice. Disgustingly nice. And nearly all damaged enough for _you_ to like them, except they came out of the oven sweet instead of bitter. For the most part."

Victor glowers. "I imagine I'm actually less damaged than most of them. I have very few of their...traumas. I suppose that's enough to make me tolerate them. At least they won't try to self-righteously fix _me."_

Loki looks not entirely convinced, and pleased about it.

" _Ugh,"_ Victor says. "They'd better not. Well, I'll come with you, if you decide to go there today. I want to see exactly how much help they need. Also, if they have a _plan._ I'll catch up on their sex lives and bad childhoods in between."

Loki looks repelled after all. "I think I'd rather you just menace them slightly," he says.

"Believe me, I hope that's all I'll have to do," Victor says. "But they talk a lot. I might not be able to avoid it." He takes Loki in his arms. "This will be exciting."

Loki relaxes, just slightly, and leans his forehead against Victor's shoulder.

"Victor," he says sadly. "My mouth is still vile, and I cannot let you kiss me until that is fixed, and if you don't kiss me I cannot convince you that I am still interesting."

"I think you could. But I'll get you some water and toothpaste," Victor concedes, feeling unnerved momentarily by the domesticity of it all.

Loki grabs him by the neck.

"Is it all right?" he asks. "Is it all right if we're not both angry all the time?"

Victor takes a breath. "I--" he says. "Yes. Yes, it is. I'm sorry. I didn't know that, at first."

"Even if I'm younger than you thought," Loki says, as though there's no need to acknowledge Victor's answer, "I'm still older than you."

Victor laughs and clasps Loki to him. "You are. I can believe that easily, no matter how ill or sad or tired you are, darling."

Loki leans back, and brushes Victor's hair from his face. His fingertips are ice-cold, so cold they stick a little against Victor's skin. "And don't forget," he murmurs.

Victor draws a sharp breath and shuts his eyes. Then he opens them again, because shutting them isn't safe. "Oh," he says, "I won't."

"Show me water," Loki says. "I don't feel ill anymore. I want to kiss you. And I want breakfast."


	11. natasha and jan have really good sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha smiles and obeys, because it's good to let Jan be in charge once in a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: past rape/incest, but also! explicit jan/natasha, strap-ons

Jan is in Natasha's bed, flat on her back and staring up at the ceiling and waiting for Natasha to either wake up or stop spying on Jan while pretending to be asleep. She's been doing this for awhile, though, and something has been on her mind for _days_ that she is _sick_ of holding onto.

"Dammit, Nat!" Jan says loudly. "I want to punch Thor's whole family in the balls! And then send them to prison," she adds. "Preferably."

Natasha startles awake. She was half sleeping, waking up slowly as she enjoyed the first real rest she'd had in a few days. "Yes?" she says. Her voice comes out clear. "Why is this?"

"Oh!" says Jan. "I'm not supposed to tell. But, well! You know, I totally called it on that Loki thing. And now I don't even mind that he almost killed me that one time. Oh, they make me _so mad!"_

Natasha rolls over and regards Jan. That's still vague enough that she isn't sure what has been turned up, but _bad childhood_ is probably somewhere in there. Whatever that might mean.

"They make you mad enough that you will forgive Loki?" she asks. She isn't sure she'd feel the same. "How do the others feel? Are we going to become _friends_ with him now?" She sneers.

"Ummm," says Jan. "Well. Yes. We are. Because Thor found out what they did and now he's _really_ mad. But _Nat,"_ she says, sitting upright, "I talked to Loki and Thor at my house day before yesterday? And Loki's just this messed up adorable little genderqueer thing! And _now_ I know what they did to make him turn out all ragey and dangerous and I just want to throttle them 'til they drop!"

Natasha stares at her. "Only you," she says after a moment. It's both scornful and fond. "I believe you that what they did was terrible. Old gods are not known for their kindness." She props herself up on her elbow and traces a circle on Jan's hip. "However, I doubt I will find Loki so...adorable." _Genderqueer_ is a term she's not actually familiar with, but she can guess easily enough.

"Maybe not," Jan shrugs. "But he's not--he was so nervous, Nat, he's really just a kid, and he doesn't have any language to talk about _anything_ he is, or to make it okay, because they lied to him and told him what he is is _evil_ on top of it, and, well."

Natasha still can't picture it, but she nods. Despite Jan's tendency to love things more than they deserve, Natasha is willing to trust her on this.

"If that is the case," she says, "what do we do about it?" She hopes the answer isn't _give Loki a crash-course in social justice._

"Oh, I am totally gonna give him the pronoun talk," Jan says. "I might even be polite to Doctor Doom, even though he's a crazy freak. I don't know what Thor's gonna do about their brother and their dad, though. I don't know what I'd do if I found out my dad had--" She bites her lip.

"Had what?" Natasha snaps. She feels a slow, cold fury building. People who hurt children, people who hurt their _families--_ She is not happy about this. (She files away the fact that she may be required to be polite to Doctor Doom as well.)

Jan's normally cheery expression (normally cheery, even when she's ferocious with rage) slips. "Oh, god, Nat," she says. "The kid got raped. They made him have his own dad's creepy wolf baby." She grabs her elbows and makes an upset huff of sound. "As I understand it, his brother was a completely separate incident. I want to _kill_ them."

Natasha swears in Russian. "I would help you do it," she says violently.

"Angry little Loki explained, right?" Jan says with an angry little laugh.

Natasha nods. "No wonder he is mad," she says. "He? Yes?"

Jan waves her hand. "I don't think he knows? He told me, though, he's a man when he's a man and a woman when he's a woman, and a wolf when he's a wolf." She quirks a smile. "He's not a wolf at all. He's a little viper."

Natasha smiles, still angry, but pleased with Loki. "He will be well," she says. "He is vicious enough to survive."

"Yeah, but how'd he do it before?" Jan asks. "I mean if he only just got all crazy recently, how was he coping before? Seriously though, let me kill the gods. I will take them _down._ Also I want to be Loki's friend so. Much."

Natasha makes a derisive sound. "You can try. To be his friend," she clarifies. " _Not_ to kill the gods. But I agree that he deserves some sort of help." She sighs and buries her face in Jan's shoulder. "This week has been...not good."

Jan smooths her hair. "How's your pal Bucky doing?"

"Sane," Natasha says shortly. "For now." She relents a little. "We have been working in his head. He is stable. But there is no guarantee. It is hard for him." She doesn't want to tell Jan how hard it's been for _her._ That isn't fair.

Jan tugs on Nat's hair a little. "Every time you come out of there you look tired to death," she says. "Those jerks really messed with your lives. I mean--I know Bucky's a little different from you, but still. Same guys behind the wheel some of the time, right? God. I've gotta put them on the list for big powerful assholes I need to kill a terrible death."

Natasha laughs in surprise. _This_ is why Jan is such a good thing. "Many of them are dead already," she says. She kisses Jan's shoulder. "I just hope James can leave the lab soon. He is growing restless." If he leaves too soon, however, he'll hurt someone, and she would not forgive herself for allowing that to happen.

"Um, yeah," Jan says. "Trapped in a box with mostly only Hank and Bruce for company? Come on. Who wouldn't be getting _more_ homicidal?"

"He likes Bruce," Natasha says, shrugging. "But yes. Things need to change. And what about Loki? Is there a plan of any kind? Tony hasn't called a meeting in too long."

"Right," says Jan. "Well. Um, I think Tony is trying to get a grip. On the situation. I'm sure he'll get everyone on board when he's...done that."

Natasha raises an eyebrow. "This does not sound promising. What now?"

"Honest to god," Jan says, "I do not know. And I am not gonna ask. I feel like if we pried, in this case, it would go about as well as Loki the psycho lab bomber."

Tony is...difficult. And rough handling does not always help. Natasha decides to drop it.

"Then I hope he rebuilds himself soon so we can move forward," Natasha says. "Do you want me to be friends with your new pet god?"

Jan laughs. "I only want to put you two in a room together if I can guaranteed pull one of you out of it again at a moment's notice."

Natasha gives Jan a smile with teeth. "We have a deal."

Jan leans down to kiss her. "Y'know, I do realize that I am like, a massively privileged young lady," she says. "But I didn't expect so many of my friends would be _hurt_ like this. And I realize I'm a superhero, too, but it makes me wanna do more than beat up stupid Hydra agents. It would be nice if I could keep just one person from getting treated like crap."

Natasha shuts her eyes and nuzzles Jan, uncharacteristically gentle. "You are good," she says fiercely. "And you are making this team of sad people better. It will just take time."

Jan is quiet for a moment. "You're nice to me, Nat," she says softly. "I really hope you're right."

"I _am_ right," Natasha says. "And I will help however I can." She doesn't have Jan's words or Jan's kindness, but she knows a few things about wrangling unhelpfully sad men (or--other beings).

"Good," Jan says. "I knew you would. Now shut your eyes, I want to wake you up properly."

Natasha smiles and obeys, because it's good to let Jan be in charge once in a while.

Jan levers herself over her and slides down, one knee between Natasha's thighs, to kiss her at the base of her throat. "Morning, sweetheart," she murmurs, slipping her hand under Natasha's camisole.

Natasha makes a thick, low sound and tilts her head back. She can feel the tension of the past few days beginning to dissipate. "Good morning," she says, curling one leg around Jan's body.

Jan chuckles, low and throaty. She swipes her tongue up Natasha's neck and gets a hand nice and tangled in her hair.

"I know you," she says sweetly. "You're the prettiest girl I've ever seen. And look! I'm in your bed!" She bears down with her thigh and cups one of Natasha's tits.

Natasha gasps and presses up against Jan. "Oh, you are good," she whispers. She brings her hand up to squeeze Jan's hip.

"I'm delightful," Jan agrees. She tugs on Natasha's hair, not lightly, and pinches her nipple between her fingers. "And you're just breathtaking, you know that?" She wriggles, so that her skin is meeting Natasha's at a dozen different points.

Natasha is momentarily overwhelmed. She can't focus on everything Jan is doing well enough to take charge of that, but that's--shockingly--all right. She cries out and arches against Jan. "The little rich girl can be rough," she says, half mocking, half impressed. But she already knew Jan was so much more than a little rich girl.

"Little rich girls have the luxury of fearlessness," Jan explains, and bites the skin of Natasha's throat. She is going to leave a bruise this time if Nat tries to kill her.

Natasha has to stop herself from reacting to having someone's teeth at her throat, but she manages to swallow and force herself still.

"Brave," she whispers. "Brave, angry, good little thing."

"Who's brave?" Jan asks. "God, Nat, you're letting me touch you and you don't even search me first. I'm not that stupid. I can't imagine but I can still _imagine."_

"This is why I keep you," Natasha says, violently sincere. "This is why I love you."

"Shh," Jan says. "C'mon, baby, come on, you're okay." She pushes Natasha down and pushes her camisole up over her tits, and dips her head to suck on one nipple while she plays with the other.

" _Fuck,"_ Natasha says under her breath. "Yes, yes." Jan's mouth is hot and sure and just the right amount of dangerous.

Jan keeps lapping at her, dragging her nails down Natasha's side and pushing at her thigh, telling her to spread her legs. Natasha follows instructions, following where Jan's body tells her to go. She opens her legs wide and hides a whimper when Jan's nails catch at a particularly good angle. Jan licks up the underside of Natasha's tit and lands a row of kisses up her chest to her mouth. 

"Hey, prettiest girl in the world," Jan says. "Think you can maybe let me hear you make a sound?" She slides down between Natasha's legs, stomach flush against her.

Natasha gasps without meaning to. She's not sure if it's the words or the touch. "Yes," she practically growls, rocking against Jan as much as she can from underneath her. She whines out a noise, spreading her legs even further until she feels as though she's completely open to Jan.

"Now which of us is good, huh?" Jan asks. She kisses Natasha's stomach, and then backs up onto her knees. She pulls off Natasha’s underwear, then holds Natasha's legs apart with her hands. "Whaddya think? You want me to get my fingers into your, or my tongue on your clit, or do you want me to get my cock out of the drawer? Come on, babe, have an opinion."

Oh, Natasha _has._ "Today I want your cock," she says. That was never something she could say with a straight face before Jan.

Jan grins, a little sinister. "Hold still," she orders, and climbs out of bed to fish her harness out of Natasha's dresser. She's practiced enough that she can watch Nat while she puts it on and adjusts. She puts her hand around her cock, and says without any sign of shame, "Hey, Black Widow! Your Avenger is assembled!"

Natasha covers her eyes with her hand. "You go to hell," she says. "Come here and fuck me."

"I almost heard a 'please,'" Jan says, grinning, and climbs on top of her with deliberate abandon. While she still seems to be moving around with the grace of a big dog, she swipes her thumb across the edge of Nat's cunt.

Natasha cries out and throws her head back. " _Please,"_ she snarls.

"Straight in?" Jan asks.

"Yes," Natasha says. "Yes, yes, I am ready."

"You're wet," Jan agrees. "So, so, so wet, oh my god." She pushes Natasha's legs down and spreads her open and pushes her cock inside.

Natasha moans, low and guttural. The tension isn't gone yet, it's just winding itself up into the feeling of Jan inside her. She rocks down against Jan, hard and fast. "I--This will not last long," she says. Not an apology, just a warning.

"We'll go slower some other time," Jan says, gasping out the words while she fucks Natasha. "I'm just saying--good morning. God, Nat, you're so-- _slick."_

Natasha shouts wordlessly and takes Jan's cock all way inside her. "Yes, yes, I need to _touch--"_

"Yourself?" Jan gasps. "Go for it, sugar." She levers down onto one elbow and reaches back with the other hand to finger herself, without slacking her pace.

Natasha hisses a breath and reaches down to stroke her own clit. "Close," she says. "So close, Jan, yes, fuck--" she breaks off with a whine, feeling herself start to tighten around Jan's cock.

Jan shoves in hard, fucking her and whimpering. "Come on come on come on," she moans. "Oh, baby, come on, come for me, I wanna get you on my fingers, ohgod."

Natasha spreads her legs and bucks her hips and comes, crying out and doing nothing to muffle it.

"Shit!" Jan yelps, arm buckling under her. Her face ends up pressed against Natasha's stomach, and her fingers, still wet and teasing inside herself, make her kick against the bed.

"Pleasepleaseplease, Nat," she gasps. "Ohgod. Please get me off, please get me off, oh, god, you're _so hot."_

Natasha moans and moves the hand that's trapped between them to pull Jan closer and touch her. She rubs her with quick, steady little motions, her fingers slick from both of them now.

Jan clings against Natasha's chest, ass in the air, whimpering and taut and clawing at the bed. "Pleasepleaseplease," she begs. "Ohgod, Nat, Nat, please, I want another finger in, get your finger in me, please."

Natasha pushes her middle finger inside Jan, roughly stroking her further open. "So wet," she whispers. "So close." She crooks her finger.

Jan shouts, and whimpers, and sobs against Natasha's shoulder. She rubs her own thumb against her clit, and catches her breath.

"Oh, _god,"_ she gasps, and buries her face in Natasha's pillow. She comes still fucking both their fingers, and biting down on Nat's pillow so she can scream as loud as she wants.

Natasha grips Jan as hard as she can, stroking her back, leaving the finger of her other hand in. "We have exhausted each other for dealing with our team," she says.

Jan moans and goes completely limp against her. She tries to make an answer, but there aren't any words to start with, so all that comes out is a little mad babble. "Still _in_ me," she finally mumbles. She tries to wave her hand, but just ends up nestling closer into Natasha's warmth.

"Mm," Natasha agrees, pleased and relaxed for the first time in days. She isn't going to move, and she certainly isn't going to make Jan move. She feels too good.

Jan slips her own fingers out, anyway, so her shoulder stops aching, and nuzzles against Natasha with her legs apart. "Jus' leave it," she says. "Ungh. This isn't waking up." Her eyes are mostly shut.

"I will wake you up soon when this becomes uncomfortable," Natasha murmurs.

"Hnph," says Jan, but that is as far as her crusade for justice gets for awhile.


	12. tony stark would prefer to keep repressing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "No," Tony says, numb and ill. "No, oh no, that is _not_ how it is."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: PTSD, past rape/dubcon, ref to alcohol abuse, mental health

Steve clears his throat while he and Tony are brushing their teeth.

Tony nearly chokes on his toothpaste. "Wuh?" he asks when he recovers.

"Sorry," Steve says. "I was anxious. That was louder than I meant. I wanted to ask if you're okay."

"I'm fine," Tony says without thinking about it. If by _fine_ he means he had nightmares all night. Not about anything relevant, even.

Steve thinks about that. "Okay," he says. "You kicked me about fifteen times last night, but--no, sorry, that's not fair. I mean, I don't think Loki's about to go away anytime soon. Even if he leaves, you're still going to hear about him." He shrugs. "I hate seeing it hurt you every time his--this stuff comes up."

Tony very badly _does not want_ to be this person. He doesn't want to be some scared, sensitive, weak little--He doesn't want it. But it's true, even Loki's _name_ is setting him off now.

"So what the hell do I do about it?" he asks, still more snappish than he'd like.

"I--don't know," Steve says. "I'm not exactly an expert on...but there are doctors, right?" Maybe right. Asylums are bad, or they used to be bad--Steve had tried suggesting that he visit veterans at asylums once or twice, and nobody would let him go. But there were nicer places. Convalescent homes--big gardens, lots of walks and hearty food and taking it easy. Tony could afford that, that’s all he needs. A little rest wouldn’t be so awful, would it? Except that he’s Tony, of course.

"No doctors," Tony says vehemently. He takes a calming breath. "I. I tried that. Once. I'm not doing it again. It's too invasive and I'm too public and--"

And he never likes what they have to say.

"Well, I don't know then," Steve says uncomfortably. "You don't even want to talk to me about it, so I guess your friends are out. And I guess you haven't fixed it by pretending it's not there, and--I don't _know,_ but you can't just leave it so you fall to pieces every time the wrong person walks into the room. It's not..." It's _upsetting,_ is what it is. It shouldn't be like this.

"No," Tony says, numb and ill. "No, oh no, that is _not_ how it is. I'm not falling to--I'm going to deal with this. I'm going to pack it back up and put it away and--God, do you really think I'm that weak?" He sets down his toothbrush very carefully.

"Pack it back _up?"_ Steve demands. He takes a step back so Tony isn't trapped in the room by him. "Tony, this won't stop happening. You're--damn it, you're always on the edge of acting like you're not worth a damn and you're body's not good enough and no one's going to like you, and I don't know how much of that comes from how that son of a bitch treated you, but you don't deserve it, Tony, and it's not going to help to just pretend it's not still _hurting you."_

"What do you want me to do?" Tony demands. He's shouting and he needs not to be. Steve is too _big,_ too solid, too sensible. "Do you want me to fucking break down, Steve? Because if I think about all the things he did and what it really meant to him, I _will."_

"Of course I don't want--I want you to be _well,"_ Steve says. "I want you to know your own damned worth and I don't want some screwed up little brat from another planet taking you apart by coming up in conversation. I don't know how much talking it out would do you, Tony, but keeping it quiet isn't fucking working!"

"I don't fucking get a middle ground!" Tony yells. He's shaking. Go figure. "Not with anything! I've never had _room_ for it. All or nothing is all there _is."_

"Well maybe you could get one if you slowed the hell down and _tried it,"_ Steve shouts back. "I don't exactly see you giving up on six cups of coffee or middle-of-the-day drinks or eighteen hour workdays or being in charge of every damn problem that comes through this door. Yeah, except for this one, because you can't _talk_ about it!"

Tony grabs his water glass and hurls it against the wall. He thinks for a second that maybe the shattering sound will make him _stop,_ but it doesn't.

"Oh, Steve," he says, low and poisonous. "I wondered how long it would be before you turned into everyone else. Just like Pepper and Rhodey. Sorry your broken little machine isn't taking care of himself." _Unfair,_ he tells himself, but he can't stop. At least he's actually showing Steve he's mad. That's a step, right?

"Well you _won't let me,"_ Steve shouts at him, "so I was hoping you could maybe give it a shot. Maybe considering you just listed your only other friends, you could consider that they have a _goddamned point."_

"My only--" Tony takes a step back. "Uh huh. So that's how it is, then. If that's what you think of me, why are you wasting your time?"

"Because you're fucking well worth it!" Steve shouts. "And someone messed with you, and I can't kill him, and you won't let me help, and I just wanted to know if maybe there is anybody else who can make things okay!"

"It's not okay!" Tony shouts. "I'm not okay! I--I don't--" He doesn't know how to ask for help. He's never been _allowed._ There's still a voice in the back of his head telling him that if he says anything, if he tells, his dad will be furious and the media will find out.

"Tony," Steve says. "Tony. God. I just want to--there's no damn way for me to offer you anything without it sounding like I think something I don't." He sticks out his hands. "I just want to give you what I've got until you'll _take_ it."

Tony scrubs his hands over his face. "You're just trying to help and I fucking _yelled_ at you. This is what I mean. I don't know where to start fixing this, even if I know the names of every little thing that's wrong with me."

Somehow, Steve is still standing there and not leaving in disgust.

Steve says, "Come on, Tony. That's like saying I just poked an open wound with a stick and you're somehow to blame for it hurting."

Tony tugs at his own hair, just trying to do something with this hands. "Yeah. Yeah. It sounds insane when you put it like that. Sorry, I--it might help if I gave you _context_ for why I'm so crazy, but that would sound like I'm making up excuses."

"I'm not asking you to explain yourself," Steve says. "I mean--if someone tells you long enough the wound ain't there, you're gonna apologize to the guy with the stick." He blushes and frowns. "I'm saying it's not your fault, but you shouldn't be trying to fix yourself up when you aren't even equipped to know what's wrong."

"I can't go to a doctor," Tony says raggedly. "Not for _either_ set of PTSD, not for the brain stuff that came built in, not for any of it. My private life has to stay private."

"Then we'll find some way to keep it private," Steve says, shaking his head. "We'll manage. But I'm not gonna let you fall apart on me."

"Even though I'm an over-caffeinated alcoholic?" Tony asks nastily.

"Kind of part of the package," Steve says shakily. "I'm not going to tell you it doesn't scare the hell out of me, but Jesus, Tony, you think I didn't know about that before I ever said yes to you?"

Tony stares at him. Steve still doesn't make sense. "No one has ever said yes and kept saying yes," he says slowly. "Except Obie."

Steve makes an angry noise and clenches his fist for a second before giving in and slamming it sideways against the wall. "God damn that man. Really. I hope there's a hell and I hope it's hot and I hope he's roasting in it. You're a lot more than what he took from you, do you get that? And I'm not saying yes because I'm anything like him."

Tony sobs out a breath. He's not crying, but he's close. Then he can't stand not to be touching Steve, so he catapults himself forward and slams against Steve's chest in a violent, wild hug.

"I know," he mutters, "I do know that, I promise, I don't think you're like that. You're just--too good to be true."

Steve hugs him back, shaking. "You're just a man with really rotten luck," he says. "Your standards are not as high as they could be."

"I love you," Tony says, in case he somehow forgets to say it later. "I--I want to find a way to fix this. Even if it means doctors."

Steve tucks his face against Tony's hair and breathes in his smell. "You're so damn brave," he murmurs. "You never seem to think you're the kind of person who can get things right, and you just keep doing them and getting them right anyway." He turns it into a proper bear hug. "Why oh why would I put up with somebody like that."

"Shit," Tony whispers. He squeezes his eyes shut as tightly as he can and only ends up crying a little.

Steve kisses the top of his head. "You said it, pal," he murmurs back.

Tony lets himself relax against Steve for a minute before pulling away and smiling. "Okay, here's what we're gonna do. I'm gonna clean that glass up, and then we should talk to Thor about the Loki situation."

"You good?" Steve asks.

Tony actually thinks about it this time. "Yeah," he says. "For now. If we start dealing with this Loki thing and I stop being good, I'll let you know."

"Thank you," Steve says. "Okay. I'll make coffee, you sweep glass, we'll check in with Thor, and that's a good plan for the morning." He smiles at Tony.

Tony feels weak with relief. "A great plan. You check with Thor. Get an update on the situation."

"I'll do that, Iron Man," Steve says, but instead of starting off to the kitchen, he catches Tony's face in his hands and kisses him. Tony grabs Steve's arms and holds on, kissing him back and wondering how the hell he got so lucky.

Steve pulls back. "Gosh," he whispers, "I'm glad you picked not to hate me again."

Tony shakes his head. "You didn't do anything wrong. You were just trying to--I needed to hear some of that."

Steve shrugs and smiles and says, "Coffee," and extricates himself to the other room.


	13. loki has a plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Whatever your strength, this is a battle for the wife and the sons of Odin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: ...not really...any. O_O

"Thor says they're going ahead with the plan to dethrone their father," Steve reports, still a little bemused. "They have their brother Tyr on their side, and he's looking into which of his soldiers he can trust. Thor's friends are with them, and surprisingly or not, so is the queen. They're setting her up to take over full rule of Asgard when Odin is gone." He shakes his head and looks a little more cautiously at Tony. "He said to tell you Loki is bringing Victor over to _meet us as other than foes._ He called Doctor Doom _Victor._ And he said that thing about foes!"

" _Huh,"_ Tony says. He'd really hoped they were going to drop the whole Odin thing, and instead they've been surprisingly efficient in moving ahead with it. But that's okay. Tony's been planning for that eventuality, too.

"Right," he says, clearing his throat. "Victor. That's--that is possibly not the best of ideas."

Steve shrugs helplessly. "I think it's too late to stop them?" he says like it's a question. "And who knows, maybe--maybe everyone is good now. All good guys. Except Thor's father, apparently."

"So I gather," Tony says shortly. He takes a steadying breath and looks Steve in the eye. "I gather that most of Thor's family is kind of...despicable."

Steve claps his hand gently against the back of Tony's neck. "Not Thor. Or their mother. Or Loki, apparently. Or the god of war, as it turns out." He chuckles through the last part because it doesn't sound likely at all. He meets Tony's eye and grows more serious. "You tell me," he says. "You tell me when it's something you can't do. If nothing else, just remember that this is one son of a bitch we _are_ going to take down."

Tony's laugh is a little stilted, but it's genuine. "Only you would say that about the king of the gods," he says.

Steve grins boyishly. "He won't be king of the gods for long," he says.

And he means _every word._ It makes Tony feel okay enough to get through the rest of today. He hopes. 

"Oof," he says. "Okay. Then let's go hang out with Doctor Doom."

Steve grins more broadly, and then cuts it out to kiss the edge of Tony's mouth. "Let's," he says. "Oh, I really want to suit up and wait sternly in the lobby. Crossed arms, you know."

Tony chuckles. "I knew you were more fun than you looked in the photos. Let's do it. I promise I won't even grab your ass."

" _Yes,"_ Steve says enthusiastically, and then blushes. "I, uh. I meant to the plan. Not the...ass-grabbing."

Tony grabs Steve's hand. "C'mon, soldier." He files away this very useful information about embarrassing Steve.

~

Victor sweeps into Avengers Tower, dressed in his best armor and cloak. He has no intention of letting these peasants forget who he is, even if he's meant to be civil to them.

When he sees Iron Man and Captain America standing there looking serious in their silly suits, he's glad he's wearing his mask. Otherwise he might laugh. He checks that Loki is all right at his elbow, and bows to them.

"Greetings, Avengers," he says. Beside him, Loki nods hello, unsure if he wants to be annoyed at them for obviously making fun of Victor, or amused because they’re not wrong.

"Hi," Tony says, opening his visor and exposing himself to all manner of attack. "Hope you two slept well. We have a lot of work to do."

"This alliance is conditional upon your not annoying me," Victor warns him. But he recognizes a man hiding behind armor. He’ll let it slide.

"My cause is an imminent ruin," Loki says, but he's looking at _Captain America,_ who doesn't look as though his sense of humor extends to anything but dislike of his guests.

"And do we have a plan?" Tony asks. "I actually had a few things I wanted to run by you."

"The plan is a work in progress," Loki says, watching Victor (who, of course, is trying to make it difficult as an inscrutable edifice), and Stark, and Rogers. "The most I can offer, for now, is that it will take perhaps a few weeks for Tyr to gather his forces and for Victor to build his."

Whatever Tony and the others have said, Steve thinks, this Loki doesn't look like the shy, broken young thing that's been winning over the hearts of Steve's friends. Standing in Avengers Tower now doesn’t seem to make him any more anxious than it did when he was baiting Bucky and trying to get Tony killed. 

"Good," Tony says. "Then we can work on what I've come up with, too. I want your input, Loki, because I'm not an expert on magic." He flashes both Loki and Victor a smile.

"And what will the rest of your team do?" Victor asks, giving Captain America and his obvious frowning a scornful glance.

"Good question," Steve says unsmilingly. "It's one thing to offer a few weapons as a show of good faith for our teammate, but it's another to get in line for battle on someone else's territory. We're not policy-makers, but someone might mistake this for an American military action. I'm not convinced we should be in there at all."

"Your boy," Loki says. "Bucky Barnes. In the lab. He doesn't represent America, does he?"

Victor looks at him, startled. "Oh, you're charming."

"That's not a good idea," Tony snaps. "We're not involving someone who isn't even _stable._ And you shouldn't even be talking to him. Don't get me wrong, I'm on your side, but I don't trust you."

"Don't you," says Steve through gritted teeth, "even _suggest_ that my friend risk his life for you, especially not in his condition, especially not after you did what you did."

"I didn't suggest it," Loki says tightly, smiling. "He did."

"Hell he did!" says Steve.

"I believe him," Victor says, regarding Loki with pleasure. Clever, making the right friends. Plans seem to form around Loki without his full focus even being on them.

"So do I," Tony says, which is a surprise. "He’s just stubborn enough to do it. Assuming Loki talked him out of _hating_ him."

"That wasn't hard," Loki says, being his most horrible kind of prim.

Steve simmers with rage. "If you hurt him in any way at all, you're going down, you got that?"

"Easy," Tony says.

Victor laughs. "You're like an ill-trained hound, Captain. Have a little faith."

"In what?" Steve says. "In _this_ kid? The best thing I've heard about him is it's not his fault he's a raging psychopath."

Loki doesn't flinch, but he sets his jaw; Tony makes a little sound, as if he's about to say something. Victor will remember that; for now, he's too busy being annoyed. 

"Oh, I can see how very badly we need your aid," he snaps. "Show a little respect."

“If you don’t _want_ our help--” Steve starts.

"It's fine," Loki says to Victor. To Stark he says, "I'll happily show you magic; I doubt you can use it without me, but I expect you'll be interested. Which is more than most would be caught dead saying. I’m sure between us we can think of something clever."

"Tony--" Steve starts.

Tony flutters a hand at him. "Easy, Cap. So, I have this thought, Loki. And I don't know if it's any good, because I don't know what you know about magic, but it's still a thought. It's about harnessing celestial energy. With nets." His eyes are practically glowing.

Loki leans toward him, a smile at the edge of his mouth, and then eyes Steve and puts himself back into his place.

"You could show me," Loki says, a little less visibly happy. "I'd like to--Stark, will this do? We needn’t use you."

Steve bites back his first reaction and holds still. Easy, Cap.

"Yes," Tony says steadily. "I'm sorry about before. We're all on board with this."

"So you've been spreading Loki's business to the entire team," Victor grumbles.

"Victor, Victor," Loki says. "No. That was me. Or Thor. It doesn't matter. In better circumstances I would not ask Thor’s friends of any realm for _help_ , but they certainly would not have given it if they didn’t know why. No, don’t trouble yourself for that."

Steve frowns. There are a few things bothering him about Loki, and he can't get them to settle down and tell him what they are.

"I kind of wish you hadn't told us why," Tony says like it's a joke. It comes out more meanly than he intends, but he doesn’t notice. Victor tries not to be disgusted. "Anyway! Like I said, we're all on board. With _both_ of you."

Loki gives Tony a look that Steve doesn't like at all, one that says he knows a lot more than he's saying and one of the things he knows is that Tony is a liar. He also looks, in that moment, older and younger and less put together.

"Peculiar creatures," Loki says finally.

Tony smiles. "I know," he says. "People, and especially this team. Thankfully, so are you two."

Victor resents that deeply, but he'll let it go for now. "Good," he says. "Maybe now we can do business with your team. Including...Bucky." He gives Loki an appreciative nod.

Rogers glowers. "I'll believe he wants to help you when he tells me himself. And he's not going anywhere until Hank clears him."

Loki reacts in a way that reminds Steve of a large predator twitching a fly off its back.

"I have the oddest memory of your leader telling you to keep quiet," Loki says, somewhere between a purr and a growl.

"This isn't getting us anywhere," Tony says sharply. "We don't have to be friends, but we do have to be civil. I can't promise my entire team will be--watch out for Hawkeye--but I'll do my best to make them. Okay?"

Victor sighs. "You cut less of a pathetic figure than I imagined, I'll grant you that." Loki smiles in a contrite way that's not really helpful, but it isn't unhelpful enough for Steve to reasonably react to it either. Pity.

"I'll keep my peace," Steve says. "But no one's going near Bucky, got it?"

Loki looks ready to answer that with somewhat more decisive unhelpfulness, but he doesn’t; he shuts his mouth abruptly and gives a curt nod.

"We'll discuss Bucky with Bucky," Tony says soothingly. "Maybe we should go take a seat somewhere. We have a nice meeting room. There's coffee."

"Tacky," Victor mutters. "Gladly," he says, louder. Steve frowns. Loki twitches a smile, and Steve sighs. Malevolent little beast Loki might be, but Steve has to admit his smile is--disarming. It twitches into a frown, though, after just a moment.

"Do you have anywhere to sit that’s more--comfortable?" Loki asks. “It’s a whim. Council rooms nearly alway feel as though you’re waiting to be punished, don’t you think? Second only to thrones, I suppose.”

Tony pauses, and Victor can't actually tell what he's thinking. Then he says, "You know what? There's a rec room. Why don't we chat in the rec room?"

Loki looks tentatively more at ease. "Yes," he says. "I think that would do."

Which, Steve thinks, is another little piece of what looks like--unguardedness. Which is not what he's expected to see from Thor's crazy brother at all. Steve really can't solve him, and it's making him queasy.

~

Stark leads them into a large room full of overpriced everything. It's a little too tacky to make Victor feel quite at home. He takes a seat on one of the couches and links his fingers together with a clanking noise, while Loki flits around restlessly before settling onto the couch next to him.

"Okay," Tony says. "So, are we ready to talk game plan? Or do we need to snipe at each other some more?"

Steve pulls a face, embarrassed, but Loki apparently isn't; he says, "Is Captain Rogers right about how it will look for the Avengers to aid a coup in Asgard?"

Tony laughs self-consciously. "There's a little debate as to who this team belongs to, actually. If the answer is Nick Fury, then yeah, he's government. But if it's me..."

"It doesn't matter what _you_ think," Loki says, waving this off. "It matters what people think. The people. They control whether you exist."

" _Trust_ me, I know," Tony says. "As far as they're concerned, this isn't a government project. I don't think they'd like us so much if it were."

"Is that accurate?" Victor asks. "Are they really so blind?"

"It's privately funded," Tony snaps.

Loki frowns, ignoring them, from all appearances. "Nonetheless--will you ask them each if this is a venture they'll join willingly? They may be needed for very particular places. There won't be room for grudging assistance." His eyes slide past Steve at that, and Steve has to grit his teeth not to earn it.

Victor raises his eyebrows. "Oh, you've been thinking about this. You have a _plan."_

"Thank God someone does," Tony says. "But you're right. We should ask them. Want me to call an official meeting with the rest of them? Some of them still have a little catching up to do."

Steve catches _that_ change in Loki's expression, and there’s no question what it means. He saw that look on Tony's face this morning. As it turns out, Steve doesn't feel any less queasy about Loki when he does understand. He glances over to check on Tony, in case Tony caught it too.

Loki says, stilted, "Ah. You meant--the revolution. Anything else would be...I suppose the details behind it are already known to everyone." He looks ill, and as if he’s trying not to look ill.

"Not everyone," Tony says vehemently. Not Clint and Hank, anyway. Not details. Just the broad strokes. "Look, that's probably not necessary. We can discuss their feelings on going up against Asgard without getting into the messy specifics."

Victor nods, pleased. This man has more sense than Thor.

Loki nods as well, tightly, and now Steve can see the breakable thing everyone's going on about. He really wants to punch something, and he's not sure if it's a wall, one of several ruthless old men, or Loki himself.

"The outline, then," Loki says. "Of a plan. Until we know who will be there." He swallows, but then he explains.

For the beginning of a plan, he thinks, it's really quite good.

When Loki is done explaining, Tony just stares at him for a while. Then he says, "That's _smart._ Jesus."

Victor laughs. "It's more than smart. It's genius. Let's see what your team thinks." He moves his hand from Loki's knee where it has fallen.

Tony nods and pulls out his card. "Got it. I'll call them here and we can discuss."

Loki frowns. "I am worried about the part in the middle. Tell me more about this net you're weaving?"

Tony takes a deep breath and fiddles with the card. "To be honest, I originally drew up the design with you in mind. I was thinking about a weapon, something that expelled energy, but I realized I needed the opposite. It's sort of a--here."

He stops waving his hands in thin air and taps a button on the arm of the couch. "Look." Blue diagrams suddenly fill the air between the two couches.

Steve waits for Loki to look angry about being targeted, but he actually looks kind of--pleased? He looks more pleased (after a bit of a frown where he tries to figure out how to understand the thing in front of him) when he sees what Tony's been making. Actually, he laughs.

"Oh!" he says. "Oh, I can--this is perfect." He looks past the designs at Tony with genuine excitement. "We can make something perfect of this."

Tony doesn't say anything for a second. He's got that eye-of-a-storm feeling again, just like when he had Loki's magic scampering into his hand.

"Good," he says quietly.

"I can make it do what you want it to do," Loki says, with certainty. "Call your team if you like; that was the only thing missing."

Steve is silent. Every time Loki speaks or moves he's a slightly different creature. It's unnerving, but it's also difficult to be anything as simple as angry at him. Tony is looking at Loki like he's seeing...well, gods on Earth. And Doctor Doom, of all people, is sitting here surrounded by his enemies acting _tame._ Tame and proud. Thor, Steve thinks, is not like this.

"They'll be pleased," Tony says. "Well, no, they'll be confused. Then they'll be pleased. Mostly. Okay, calling." He taps the card a few times.

Victor is watching them all, pleased enough himself that Loki seems to have made a friend. He's paying more heed to Captain America, though. Steve Rogers is uncomfortable.

Tony calls up the team, and Steve watches Loki turn into about fifteen different things while sitting still on a couch. He has no idea what the hell to do with that. Eventually (when Tony hangs up), Steve realizes that Doom's mask is angled towards him. He sits back with a jerk and looks hard in Tony's direction.

Doom chuckles. "The Captain is troubled. I can't imagine why."

"Play nice," Tony warns him. "Everyone else is."

"Even me," Loki agrees. "And as we know, I am a vile influence on everything that perceives me."

Steve blushes.

"I don't have a setting for ‘playing nice,’" Victor says to Tony. "You should know. You do robots." He wishes (as he very rarely does) that he didn't wear a mask, so he could temper his words with facial expressions. Tony is starting to look unhappy, in sort of a bright, quivering way. Victor relents and says, "I'll leave the poor soldier alone."

"Hey!" Jan says from the doorway. Natasha is behind her. "We were literally like, right down the hall. Coming here. We did not know there was a secret meeting. Hi!" she says to Loki directly, and Natasha nods to him. He looks bemused.

"Great," Tony says. "Come in, sit down. We're waiting for people to get here so we can discuss strategy and the relative merits of invading other realms."

"Ahahahaha," says Jan. "What? Ohmygod, Nat, did you hear that? He is totally going to let us punch out some gods." She looks up at Loki and grins dazzlingly. "Not you!"

"Huh!" says Steve. "I guess that's one vote of yes, and you haven't even put forward the question."

"If we can do this without ruffling feathers here, we should," Natasha says. "If not, we still should." She shrugs at Loki. "I dislike people who misuse their power."

"And the spy," Loki mutters under his breath. He says to Tony, "If you can keep even one member of your team from gossiping, I'll be impressed, but I doubt you’ll keep anyone in the dark for long."

"It's kind of a problem," Tony says, alarmed. "Sorry. _Sorry."_

Loki smiles tightly. "Inevitable, isn't it?"

Loki is tense; Tony looks sick. Victor gets to his feet, resting one hand on Loki's shoulder, and says, "I don't believe we've met, Black Widow, though it would seem you know more than your share about us. And you, little one." He inclines his head toward Jan. "To my surprise, I hope you plan to make a habit of invading countries." He gives Loki's shoulder a hard squeeze.

"Oops," Jan says. "Sorry. To be fair, that last time was totally Loki's fault. Because of how he was trying to kill us. Did you get your house put back together all right?" Then she starts. "Oh my _god,_ I am so sorry. I didn't mean to--I was so _angry_ I just..." She punches Natasha in the arm. "Why'd you have to go and _say I told you?_ Some superspy you are. Now everybody looks like their puppies got murdered."

Loki leans his weight against Victor's hand.

"I would have learned anyway," Natasha says evenly. "Rumors get around. Especially on this team."

"No one's blaming anyone," Tony says a little frantically. "Can we just _not talk about it?"_

"I agree, there is no need," Victor says. "We've already determined our course. The reasons are immaterial now." He wishes he could take his mask off and kiss Loki's forehead, but he can't.

"Perhaps," says Steve loudly, "everyone could have a _nice sit down."_

Everyone looks at him.

"And try some consideration," he says.

"Agreed," Natasha says, dropping into a seat.

"Yeah," Tony says. "Okay. Good. So everyone here's ready to do this. Now we just need to check in with...everyone else."

"I'm here!" says Hank. "What are we doing? Oh _my."_ He stares at Victor. Loki stares back. Steve says, "Have a seat, Hank, we're getting to that when everyone gets here."

"Oh my," Victor mutters to Loki, smirking inside his mask.

"We're missing Clint, Thor, and Bruce," Tony says, ticking them off on his fingers. "And two of them already know what's going on."

"They don't know the plan," Loki says, frowning. "I didn't tell anyone there was a plan."

"Thor probably thinks the plan is to go in with his hammer raised and smack your dad in the face with it," Tony says.

Victor actually laughs at that. It sounds likely.

"That's my plan!" Jan says. "Except, no hammer. My plan is probably not so good."

"Plan for what?" Clint says from the door. "What the hell. Doctor Doom is in our rec room. We are having a meeting in our rec room, which is ruining its sanctity, by the way, and Doctor Doom is here. Also that crazy guy Thor cries about all the time. I don’t comprehend. What the hell is going on? "

"Hopefully you're getting out of the doorway," Bruce mutters behind him. Clint jumps.

"Oh good," Tony says dubiously.

"Poor Clint," Natasha says distantly.

"Friends!" Thor says, clearly recovered from any trauma _he’s_ suffered. He steps around Clint and into the rec room. "Victor. Loki." He smiles at everyone, almost desperately hopeful.

"So, the plan," Tony says wearily.

Loki looks dubiously back at him. He hasn't tried to sway a real audience in awhile, and it's never been his preference. The fresh Avengers, Thor included, are staying on their feet and making a lot of noise and making it, in general, very hard to say anything of import.

Thor crosses the room to sit by Loki and Victor, tugging Bruce along with him. "Greetings, sibling," he says, patting Loki's shoulder. Victor, at Loki's other side, bristles.

Bruce eyes Victor warily, nods to Loki without the need, in his considered opinion, for a reassuring smile, and perches on the arm of the chair Thor has put himself in.

Steve says, "Clint, I promise it's okay."

"Oh good," says Clint, and bothers to sit down. Jan babbles at him from the next couch until she notices everyone else is becoming quiet.

"Every stupid time!" she says, and then shuts up.

"Do you usually comprehend?" Victor asks Clint scathingly.

"Maybe," says Clint. "Possibly. Generally speaking. I feel that my question is valid, hey, as a matter of fact. What. Is. Happening?"

"Well, Thor needs some help in Asgard," Steve says.

"He needs us to beat up his dad!" Jan says helpfully. "Oops. Definitely talking too much again. Sorry! Go on!"

" _Okay,"_ Tony says. "Team, _settle._ Let's talk." He looks sternly at all of them until they're at least quiet and mostly attentive.

"Like Jan said," Tony confirms, "we're talking about going up against Odin. He's screwed over his kingdom and his family pretty badly by treating with the enemy and generally being a bastard. So Thor and Loki want our help in dealing with that. Clear so far?"

The team nods. Loki sends a little glance up at Thor. Thor smiles brilliantly back. 

"Good," he mouths.

Tony waves his hand and sends blue light cascading from his fingertips as he rearranges his model in thin air. "Now, Loki has a plan, and I have a few ideas on how to help out, so basically we just need your cooperation. Everyone okay with that?"

The team nods again, although Clint still looks like he wants to protest, or possibly interrogate.

Thor actually raises his hand.

Tony blinks at him and says, "Yes?"

"I just want everyone to understand this undertaking," Thor says. "This will not be easy, especially if anything goes wrong. When I say my father is king of the gods, you must understand what that means."

Natasha snorts as though she's not very impressed.

"Well, then, we'll just have to do a very good job," Steve says. Victor gives Steve an approving look that, of course, he can't see behind Victor's mask.

"Right," Tony says. "So, Loki, want to tell the team what they're in for? This is your show, after all."

It would have been better, Loki thinks, if Stark hadn't phrased it that way; but he did, and so it is. Loki stands up and puts himself in the center of the ring. This is the worst position to be in, but it's only one that will make them listen.

"Thor and I," he says, as though he has never had any enemies here and none of these mortals would dare to pity him, "and our brother Tyr wish to stage an uprising against our father, on the grounds that by fraternizing with Asgard's enemy, Laufey, he has betrayed the throne and his wife the queen." He looks to see how they are taking this.

Natasha nods approval. Victor decides, quietly, that he likes her.

Loki turns as he talks, and talks with his hands. "Odin has the people's faith," he says. "He has always been there, and when for a time anyone else has ruled it has not been--well." He rather hopes no one but Thor knows about _his_ very brief kingship. "But Asgard hates the Jotuns more than anything else." Not even a self-effacing smile, here, because it will not serve. "And they love their queen. Our forces will arrive visibly and at her back, and we will follow her to the palace, where she will declare Odin's duplicity before all Asgard." He frowns. "This should upset the people's certainty, but it won't stop Odin fighting us. Mr. Stark has a plan for him, as you see, which I hope will be ready in the week." He waves his hand at Stark's floating blue diagrams.

Tony smiles. "I can do it in five days, if I push. I don't want to bore you all with the details, but I think you can see the basic idea here..." He spreads his fingers and the diagram expends. He glances around. At least some of them look like they're still with him.

"A net," Loki explains, "to sap Odin's power. This will draw him into the Odinsleep, which will save us from the charges of regicide and patricide, and buy us time, after the fact, to build Asgard's faith in Frigga's rule. Tyr and Thor will bear the net," he says. "A show of strength, and also of intent, for they have always been Odin's favorite and most loyal children."

Natasha looks even more approving. Then she frowns. "And what will you be doing?"

"I am not better-liked in Asgard than you may expect," Loki answers truthfully. "If I stand forward, the plan becomes mine, and therefore a lie. If I stand behind Thor, however, and beside Victor, I am obedient to the cause, and not the cause of it." He winces internally. He didn't tell them, the first time through, that Victor would be subordinate to Thor.

"Excuse me," Victor says flatly, "remind me again where _I_ will be standing?"

"In support of Thor," Loki says stubbornly. "Whatever your strength, this is a battle for the wife and the sons of Odin. Thor needs a show of force and it's not your place to stand alone. Make it enough for you that you are worthy company to a warring god."

Victor grits his teeth and is silent. His pride is wounded, but he knows Loki is right. And he cannot make this harder for Loki than it already is. "I will allow it," he says, his words coming out uneven and stilted. Loki nods without apology and turns away.

" _Awkward,"_ Jan whispers.

Loki says, "Tyr will have his own troops. Half of you--those who wish to participate, that is...will stand by Thor, and the other half by Frigga. Those with Frigga will be accompanied by two of Thor's friends, the Lady Sif and Volstagg. Their companion Fandral will stand with Thor."

"You've thought this through," Natasha says from her couch. She inclines her head toward Loki.

"So we need to know now if everybody’s in," Tony says. "Are we? Is that right? Clint?"

"Yeah, sure," Clint says. "Even if you all are on a crazy person mission, you’re my team. I didn't leave SHIELD to be all sensible and unsentimental."

Tony grins. "Knew this was a good team. Okay. So I guess we're good." He looks around again, checking.

"We're good, we're in," Bruce says. "What else?"

Loki has to look pleased at that. "Thor has neglected to wonder where Hogun will be," he says. "But in answer to his unasked question, Hogun will stand at Heimdall's post on the Bifrost. He won't speak, because he never does, and Heimdall won't ask, because he is on our side even if he can do nothing about it. The moment Frigga becomes sole ruler, however, Heimdall’s allegiance will move to her, and Hogun will be sent to Nornheim. There he will offer Karnilla, the queen of the Norns, peace without marriage. Karnilla is married, you see," he tells them, "to our brother Balder. And we do not like him any better than our father the king." He hears his own words growing sharper and more acidic, and sucks in a breath to temper them.

"Neat," Tony says when he sees Loki start to _hurt._ "Two birds with one stone. A few birds, actually."

"And what of Balder?" Victor prompts. "Tell them that."

"Of course," Loki says. He waves his hand. “Balder rarely attends the queen. He will be followed, and while Hogun secures the treaty, he will be--neutralized. Asgard is not as fond of him as they once were; this is useful to us, because we are going to give him to the Jotuns as an exchange for a new peace. There hasn’t been a stable peace since--" Since he’d let Jotuns into Asgard and betrayed Laufey, but he can see Thor remembers that perfectly well, and he is _fixing_ it. He sighs. "That part will be a little difficult, and the blame will have to be forced squarely onto Odin for it to work. The Jotuns are Asgard’s old enemy, and I, as you might be aware, am half-Jotun." He holds up an arm and sprouts ice from his dusky blue fingertips.

" _What?"_ says Clint.

"Don't be culturally insensitive, Clint!" Jan says, and punches him in the arm.

Victor can't decide if he hates Clint or Jan more.

"I suppose I didn't mention," Thor mumbles. He looks at Loki. "My sibling is a great many things. Including that."

"Thanks," Loki says, looking almost like a normal slightly-put-out little brother. His shoulders are less tense when he shakes the ice from his hand and resumes his explanation. "Asgard does not like me, and they’ll hate the Jotuns more for Odin...favoring their sovereign in secret," he says. "But if Frigga, grieving but steadfast, will force peace from her child’s preserved and living body, despite her rage against both Odin and Laufey--Asgard may accept it, and her. It’s ruthless enough, and too clearly for their sakes. And the Jotuns will take it, for they’ll feel that they’ve been given the first choice that they’ve had in an age, and they’re greedy for any power they can sweep up. They’ll keep him frozen and guarded," Loki says, too softly to be speaking to everyone as much as he is to himself, "and nurse the power they have to do otherwise."

"Nearly satisfactory," Victor says forcefully.

"It's vicious," Natasha says. "It goes without saying that I approve, but."

"If you say it will work, I trust you," Thor says. "You have always known the people's minds better than I."

Loki flushes. "It will work," he says. He sits. "It will work."

"It will," Tony says. "This is a good plan. Now, let's get to work. I want all of you in top condition as soon as possible, okay? On the chance any of this goes wrong, we’ll be fighting a city full of demigods. Now, I have to take a look at this net. Everyone else, you know what you're doing."

Everyone murmurs and shrugs and gives odd glances at Loki, but they look certain enough and willing enough. Loki doesn't think any of them will be trouble, to put his plan out of place. Victor, on the other hand, may be a problem. When most of the Avengers have gone, Loki says, "Stark. I'll help you with your weapon, but if I could have a--reprieve." That is more delicate-sounding than Loki is feeling, but Stark has a soft spot for Loki's particular traumas, and Loki isn’t troubled about using it.

"Yeah, of course," Tony says, waving a hand. "I want to sort through a few ideas before I--anyway, take as long as you need."

Loki nods, and turns to Thor. "No doubt I'll see you soon. I--thank you."

"You spoke well," Thor says simply, beaming. He pats Loki's arm and turns to Bruce. "We should go."

Victor is waiting impatiently, irritated behind the mask. He feels as though everyone else in this situation is more amused by it than he is.

Loki turns and smiles at him in the middle of his irritation. "You see I have plotted us an escape," he says. "Shall we go home?"

"All right," Victor says shortly. "I can't stomach much more of this place."

"Charm to the smallest digit," Loki murmurs, and nods his farewells.

Victor puts his arm around Loki and sweeps out with him, stonily silent.


	14. loki takes walks and makes friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What are you running from, big brother?" he asks, the sounds twisting in his mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: past rape, past sibling incest, victim confronting their rapist, mental illness, violence, EVERYTHING IS REALLY CREEPY OKAY

Once home, Victor is slightly calmer. He dislikes crowds, although he'd never admit it. The Avengers set him on edge, and there could be many reasons for that. But more than anything, he hates being put on the back burner. He barely says two words to Loki on the trip.

When they're safely locked in the embassy that nobody visits, Loki sighs in relief. "Do you think that went as well as it seemed to, Victor?" he asks. "Or is your pride still too hurt to answer that question?"

Victor considers. Then he says, "I think it went very well. These people are weak in all the right places, and strong at all the right times. And yes. My pride is still hurt." He does not take his mask off.

Loki grimaces. "Of all the pieces of my puzzle to cause me trouble," he says. "It _would_ be you."

Victor smiles, but Loki can't see it. "You would have me as a foot-soldier in your brother's toy army," he says.

"I would not," Loki says shortly. "I would have you as a general. _I_ would have you as a great many things, but you cannot think you have a place at Thor and Tyr's side when they topple the king of gods. Better to have their backs."

"Of course," Victor says. "As a mere mortal, where else could I possibly be?" But he hears the rest of what Loki's saying and is touched enough to add, "I am not angry with _you._ Merely with the necessity of a plan like this."

"All of my plans are like this," Loki tells him.

"I only hope you don't forget what I am to you," Victor says. " _Plans_ aside."

"Not surprising sentiments," Loki says testily, "from the man who assumed my forgetfulness only this morning."

Victor winces. He doesn't want another fight with Loki so soon, and certainly not over something so petty. This time he knows it is his pride and nothing more. "I'm sorry," he says. It stings.

Loki stares. This wasn't the plan. "No hard feelings," he says, somewhat mechanically, and then shakes his head to clear it. "I apologize, Victor. I did not expect so much to happen at once. The plan wasn't even ready when we went to the Tower."

Victor laughs. "Oh, Loki. My Loki. You are an astounding creature. Truly. Perhaps you should go and make yourself useful when I build robots. Otherwise I might find it difficult to focus."

Victor has...never really dealt with an argument in this way before.

"Very well," Loki says amiably. " _Now_ shall I take a walk or make friends?" The gleam in his eye is more pronounced than the first time he said it. Victor pauses and takes off his mask to smile at Loki. 

"Yes," he says, "I think you should."

Loki laughs at him then, and waves him off before he wanders into some other part of the embassy and leaves Victor to his work.

~

When Loki arrives in Nornheim, he no longer appears composed. When he arrives in Balder's bedchamber, his eyes are red and his expression jagged and shifting. His hands clench at his sides. His hair is out of place.

When Loki comes in, Balder is busy sharpening his sword. His torso is only covered by a light tunic, and he wears no armor. At Loki's entrance, Balder leaps to his feet, badly startled. Since Thor's visit, he has been on edge.

"Loki?" he demands. It's been so long. He never thought Loki would _dare_ come here. Loki looks, he thinks, much as he did when Balder departed.

"Balder," Loki says, "brother." His voice trembles. His hands tremble, reaching out in tentative supplication. "Please, you must help me."

Balder recoils. Loki's words are entirely unexpected. For all the reunions he imagined between them, this was not one of them.

"What--What is it?" he asks.

"I have nowhere to go," Loki says, and his voice breaks. He stumbles forward, the imprecision of his movements grotesquely out of character.

Balder _does not want to touch Loki._ But Loki is in his space now. He backs up again, pressing himself against the wall. He wishes he hadn't dropped his sword. The foolishness of the idea that he should slay his brother in defense against _nothing_ sobers him, though, and he pushes himself away from the wall with great force of will.

"What are you running from, big brother?" he asks, the sounds twisting in his mouth.

"Nothing, nothing, only nothingness," Loki gasps. "Only falling. Midgard is so foul, and I cannot go home."

"No," Balder says softly. "No, there would be no place for someone like you. I heard, you know. What you are."

Loki makes a hurt sound and pulls back, his eyes wet with tears.

"Wait," Balder says, alarmed. "Wait, stop. I didn't mean that." He remembers Thor's visit and frowns. "What of our brothers? Will none of them have you?"

"No," Loki whispers, rubbing his arms. "They know that _you've_ had me and they are disgusted."

Balder recoils again. "By _you?"_

"Of course," Loki says. He looks mystified and miserable. "You are Balder the Pure. The Brave. I am--only a beast. Fit for father's sword. Fit for nothing. Fit to fall." He laughs, unnervingly, and stares at the floor.

"But Thor--" Balder shakes his head. Perhaps Loki is as mad as he seems. "No matter. If that is so, I am sorry for it." He thinks he is. Perhaps. "What is it you seek, then?"

If Loki says shelter, Balder will go for his sword again.

“I thought you might not be angry at me anymore,” Loki says. “I kept away so long.”

"Even if I am not angry," Balder says, "I do not want you here." He is angry, though, even if it's not for the reasons Loki means. He is also afraid. He doesn't know what Loki will do.

"You can still have me," Loki says eagerly, desperately. He is not wearing his armor. His fingers work at the hooks of his coat, scrabbling against the fabric. "You would still have me, wouldn't you, brother? You could keep me here."

Balder makes a noise of disgust. "I do not want you," he spits. "I never wanted you. You slunk into my bed and seduced me. I am _king_ here, Loki. What possible use could I have for you?"

Loki stumbles back, eyes wide, tears on his cheeks. He grasps at Balder's bedposts. "Brother," he moans. "Brother, no, no, but you loved me. You were only angry."

"If I did, I was a fool," Balder hedges. He is afraid, but he will not show it. All he wants is for Loki to be far enough way that they cannot touch.

Loki's mouth gapes as he tries and fails to protest. He gulps, and begins to weep in earnest. It is an unbearably ugly sound. "But you lay with me so often, and you were so sweet. I remember your taste, brother, you were sweet!"

"That's sick," Balder snaps. "You're sick." He reaches for Loki without meaning to, not sure how to touch him. He remembers Loki's high, shocked little gasps they first time they fucked. It was so _good._ So _pathetic._ Balder hates everything about it.

Loki catches sight of Balder's hand from the corner of his eye. He cranes forward with a moan, pushing himself towards Balder's touch. Balder drags his hand down Loki's chest, too rough for a caress. Then he jerks back and strikes Loki across the face. Loki yelps and staggers against the bed, sliding to the floor. 

"Brother, brother," he whimpers. "I did not mean to offend you."

"Go," Balder snarls. "Go _now_ and do not return."

Loki scrambles to his feet and flees, where, Balder sees and knows not.

He makes sure Loki is well and truly gone before picking up his sword again.


	15. tony and loki have things in common

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki shrugs and glances around. "Asgard doesn't know that much about magic," he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: talk of misogyny, body dysphoria, a not great mental health place

Loki arrives in Tony's workshop in considerably more put-together condition. His hair has been put to rights and he is clothed in something tidy, but not intimidating. He has given himself a relatively docile expression. He clears his throat some feet in from the doorway. Tony actually turns around, which he doesn't always do when someone comes into his lab. He's glad when he does, though.

"Loki, hey," he says, waving aside the half-finished diagram he'd building in midair. He prefers working with this hands, but he was having trouble seeing this part. "Come on in," he adds, motioning vaguely to the workbench. He tries really hard not to think about the last thing he did on that workbench.

Loki wanders over and leans against the table. "I'm not too early?" he asks.

Tony shakes his head. "Doesn’t feel done, but I'm close enough in my head that we can talk it out. I just need some details filled in. Thor isn't exactly a master of illuminating how _anything_ from your world works."

"Yes, but that's why I'm _here,"_ Loki says patiently. "Stop trying to finish everything yourself. I told you I'd show you magic; I have no doubt your net will work, but I don't think sheer clever engineering will do it, for Odin. Bring it back, will you?"

Tony nods and pulls the schematic back up. "Okay, here we go. This is the basic design. Talk magic to me." He's still feeling way calmer than he probably should around a guy who was nearly responsible for his death.

Loki leans in to see better and pokes at the design. The plans tell him that the net is light, made of minute interlocking segments of a metal he’s never seen, highly conductive, with what amounts to a _storage_ system as the core. Loki doesn’t even understand how that part works, only, from Stark’s hovering blue notes, what it’s trying to do. "This is practically magic in itself," he murmurs absently. "But most of your world doesn't have this kind of technology, do they?"

"Jesus," Tony mutters. "I--uh, thanks. Yeah. You're right. Engineering is my thing, like, I don't know, _thunder_ is Thor's. I don't know, I get the sense your people don't really value actual trades."

Loki laughs. "Whichever people mine is. No, Asgard values a blacksmith worth his anvil and a bard worth his tale; only you've met the freaks, of course." He swipes at part of the design and frowns at it.

"I get that," Tony says lightly. "I mean, I know how that is. We're kind of the freaks of Midgard. Here, let me...JARVIS, can you allow Loki to access the schematic and edit it if he wants?"

"If you insist, sir," JARVIS says. Loki frowns harder.

"Rude machine," he says. "How do you make this...bigger? Show me core. What are you using for the casing, anyway? I have no knowledge of this metal."

"Ah, right," Tony says. "Here." He spreads his fingers quickly, waving them in the direction of the schematic. "It's pretty intuitive. Just do the motion that seems right. See, now we can see the bones of the thing. You don’t know the casing because it’s mine, an alloy I synthesized. Mainly titanium, but--anyway, no idea if it'll help."

"Show me what it's made of," Loki says. "I trust you to know what works best but I'll work best if I know what to complement. Do you have a plan for grounding all this stored energy? We’ll need one, for long-term...containment. Otherwise Odin’s power will weaken the net in the span of your life and break free with no help from the outside."

"No," Tony says, the gears turning, "I don’t. But I can make one.” A base, he thinks. “Here, you'd better have a look over here. I have samples of--everything, actually." He opens a case that's lying on the other workbench. "Here are the metals the casing is made from. For the core I was using a few things--this is the main component, but if you think _this_ would be better--"

Loki finds a clear spot on the table and hops up to sit. He scrutinizes the samples for a minute and then holds out one of them to Tony. "This," he says. "But the links will need to be supple enough to weave with something else." He grimaces. "The best I've thought of is holly. It saps virtue in the godly sense."

Tony raises his eyebrows. "I should have had out mythology books to add to my pile of engineering manuals. Is this going to be tricky?"

Tony _likes_ tricky. He also, possibly, likes Loki. Loki is one of the only people who, as it turns out in the end, doesn't make him feel kind of bad to be around for extended periods of time.

Loki says, "Well, I'm sure I can encourage it into a useful shape. By the time I'm through working on it, it may even be what we need. Where does one get holly here?"

"We can get our hands on some," Tony says. He almost says that Pepper can, before he remembers, again, that she's running his corporation from Malibu. "I don't think it'll be hard. They sell plants pretty much everywhere."

"Hmm," Loki says inscrutably. "That would be good. I think we'll need a good three hundred stems or so. Two or three whole bushes would be better."

"Good thing I'm disgustingly rich," Tony says. "Ha. That was. That was a joke. In case it was unclear. Sorry, sometimes I'm accidentally an asshole."

Loki looks surprised. "If you don't want to pay I'm sure I could find some."

Tony laughs. " _Right._ You're sometimes accidentally an asshole, too. Well, if it'd be easier, sure. I can handle this end. Throw my money at tech instead of plant life." He smiles at Loki hopefully. He doesn't know why he's trying so hard with this morally dubious god (except, that's a lie, he knows why).

"Mm," Loki agrees. "Well--your materials and mine, they ought to drain mechanical and magical energy exactly as we’d like. Odin’s energy. Holly may do this, but it's suggestible to...magical engineering, in effect, if you humor it. I can bolster its effects, I think, and the effects of your elements."

"Humor it," Tony echoes, fascinated. "How does that work?" He's suddenly trying really hard not to think about magic and all the things it can do.

Loki says, shy without meaning to be, "Oh--yes. It has...pride. It needs convincing that it already wants to be what you want to make of it."

Tony frowns, toying with the schematics, his hands clenching on air. "Huh. Well, that's...neat." He's not really listening to himself. He shakes his head. "Sorry. Distracted."

Loki says lightly, "Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"No," Tony says, too quickly. "No, I'm making _myself_ uncomfortable. Sorry. Just thinking about Asgard and magic and how little we know about all of it."

Loki shrugs and glances around. "Asgard doesn't know that much about magic," he says.

"But you do," Tony presses. "Which, I gather, gets you a lot of grief."

"Yes, well," Loki says. "That and other things."

" _Sorry,"_ Tony says. "Let's not talk about this. That's probably the last thing you want on your mind." He folds a portion of the schematic away.

Loki waves his hand. "Not that," he says. "That isn’t what I meant, and I wouldn't throw that at _you._ And I am sick to death of talking of it. The grief is more from--well, there is nothing they like about me being a witch."

Tony nods. "Yeah. I take it they're more the smashing things type. But I don't know really know what being a witch entails in your--in any of your cultures."

Loki looks cornered, like a cat pretending it's not.

"I haven't understood that, Victor aside, your people take the...rest of it...any better."

"I honestly don't know," Tony says, a little alarmed at how prickly Loki suddenly is. "I mean, I'm okay with...pretty much everything. All things. Because I'm crazy? So, I don't know what people have been giving you hell for, but chances are you don't deserve it."

Loki gives him a long look and then says, "Witches here, are they male?"

"Huh?" Tony asks, derailed. "I mean, there aren't really--I guess that one mutant, but..." He stops and thinks about it. "Traditionally, in history and fiction, they're not. No. So I guess I see your problem."

"No," says Loki, shaking his head. "That's not--well, it is. It's not princely. It's not _masculine_. But I'm not...there are women warriors in Asgard but they’re only tolerated, and magic is suspicious enough, it belongs to women you don't trust, and Asgard doesn't like change, either, and a _prince_ shouldn't be..."

"What?" Tony says. "You shouldn't what?" His schematic is a compact little ball with how hard he's clenching his fists.

Loki shrugs. "Jotuns change," he says shortly.

"What do you mean?" Tony asks. "Can you--can you--" He feels stupid and numb.

"I am a wolf," Loki says. "I am a blue-skinned, ice-made monster." He isn't paying enough attention to Tony to see that he's making a mistake. He is still pretending strenuously that his visit to Balder hadn't happened, and now he can't untangle himself enough to look calm and see clearly at the same time. "I am a woman," he concludes.

"Oh," Tony says sharply. "I--oh." All Loki's saying means it _isn't easy_ for him, but Tony can't make himself hear that right now.

Loki flushes. "I didn't think you had as much inherent loathing for the sex in you as some, but I suppose that means you might still find me repellant."

"No," Tony says quickly, "no, no, that's not what I--I don't find you--I'm _jealous._ I'm sorry, I know that's kind of sick, because you only get shit for it, but I am." He's hands aren't shaking, he realizes distantly. That's a step.

Loki is completely mystified, and he can't really believe that it's not disgust. "I--don't understand," he says stiffly.

Tony runs his hands through his hair. "I just--if I could do what you can do--I'd kill for that."

Loki is quiet for a minute. "You mean change your form? Or change your appearance? I can't do that, you know. If I am a wolf I am only the wolf that is me. I can't be any other. I can't hide injuries or be prettier." Which is good reason to hope Balder didn’t leave a bruise.

"I don't want to be prettier," Tony says. He knows he should stop. "I just want...I mean, I used to be...if I could have just changed my body. Just my sex. Nothing fancy." He slams his hand down on the table. " _Damn it."_

Loki flinches. He doesn't ask what Tony means, only crosses his arms and makes himself small. He shouldn't have started this conversation so soon after Balder. He was only pushing because he needed something to take Balder's place, to cover over his own groveling and bury the smarting pain of Balder's hand hard across his face.

"Sorry," Tony says miserably. He's always saying sorry. He should just stop opening his mouth in the first place. "It's not your fault, you know."

"You're one of few to say so," Loki mumbles.

"People are assholes," Tony says vehemently. "Look, just--just forget it. Okay? What's important is that we're doing good stuff here, with this net. It's going to work. Let's not worry about how stuff _might_ have gone."

"Of course," Loki says, a little too easily.

Tony nods and smiles. He knows his brain won't let him drop this, though. He knows that as soon as there's space for it, he's going to worry and fret and make himself sick with it. But they have work to do.

"So, get me some holly," he says.

"Of course," Loki says. “You make links. And whatever it is you call its insides.” He knows he probably looks unhappy, but no unhappier than he did most of the time he lived in Asgard. He forces a little smile out of it to reassure Tony and hops down from the table.

Tony smiles back, feeling about as strained as Loki looks. "Listen, thank you," he says. "For looking at my designs and...seeing them. You know. Thank you."

Loki says, almost slyly, "If you're saying I'm clever, well observed."

"Almost as clever as I am," Tony says, straight-faced.

Loki's eyes smile a lot more than his mouth does. "Almost," he says. "I will come back when I've found what you need. If I can--I don't know if I can do this kind of magic in front of other people. It...never was safe before."

"If you run into trouble..." Tony starts, but he isn't sure what help he can be. "Just don't worry. We'll deal with anything we have to."

Loki says, "I thank you for that. Fare well."

Tony waves and turns back to expand his schematic again, not thinking about anything else.


	16. bucky barnes does in fact have agency

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky grins. "Me?" he says. "Or him? See my point?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: the word 'fag' appears

Tony, as good as his word, goes off to his workshop to work on his Odin weapon. Steve realizes (in part because Tony tells him so firmly) that, in the meantime, he has no good reason not to go see Bucky. Maybe he's a little afraid of the answers he'll get, but--well, if Loki's been talking to him again, Steve wants to make sure before anything else that he's all right.

He tells Hank, after the meeting, that he'll just be down there awhile, and Hank should perhaps put off his arrival until Steve calls him down. Hank is agreeable. Steve goes downstairs.

"Hi, pal," Steve says as the lab door shuts behind him.

Bucky looks up, startled. Of all the people who come through here, he wasn't expecting Steve. "Hi," he says carefully. He knows he’s the one who chased Steve off, but it’s still been awhile, and he’s not the same person he was the last time Steve was down here. 

Steve wanders over to Bucky's chamber.

"You can kick me out now, Buck," he says. "Otherwise, I've got a question. Nothing terrifying or condemnatory."

Bucky laughs. "Don't worry, I think I could handle it. Although it would be nice if you were here to let me out for good. I'm going stir crazy in here, Steve. Ask me if I'm ready to get the hell out." 

Steve grins. "I don't have to ask. As soon as Pym gives the word, you're out of here, and I'll let him know he'd do well to have his foot to the mat." Bucky doesn’t tell him that he’s been more or less cleared for days--a week? It’s really hard to judge time in here--and it’s just his own fear and guilt that keep him from calling Hank and Natasha _overly_ cautious.

“Thanks,” Bucky says. Steve smiles, but it falters. “What?” Bucky asks.

Steve says, "What I needed to ask you is if--Loki has visited you again. Since the wolf incident."

"Oh," Bucky says. "Yeah. He did. How'd you find out about that?" He can't imagine Steve is exactly the kind of person who'd deal well with Loki one-on-one. Maybe Thor mentioned it.

Steve coughs. "Well. We had a meeting. About, ah, overthrowing Odin, the king of Asgard. Loki...suggested we use you."

"I said I'd _help,_ yeah," Bucky corrects. "You know, if he needed. Poor guy's had a pretty bad time of it, and I hate assholes, so..."

"You _did_ say you'd help?" Steve says. "Sorry. 'Use' wasn't his word. But I--he hurt you, Bucky. He did something pretty close to what the Russians did."

"But for different reasons," Bucky says. "We talked about it. Well, I yelled about it. But we're okay now." He steps closer to Steve. "Look, not saying I trust the guy. Just that I know how it feels to hurt people 'cause you're scared. And scared that you don't know how to drive off the one person who won't give up on you."

"Never seems that scared to me," Steve says. "Just clever and vicious."

Bucky grins. "Me?" he says. "Or him? See my point?"

"You're _not_ like Loki," Steve says sharply. "You were a good kid. Kinda violent, but good. And this stuff, recently--none of it is your fault. Nobody forced Loki to try anything he's pulled, and he hasn't done any of it for the greater good."

"He did it because people bigger than him fucked him over," Bucky says, needled. "That's why I was violent. That's why I was good, too. That's why he's good. You gotta admit he must have some good in there, if Thor likes him. Thor's not dumb. Thor wouldn't like some useless little punk who only wanted to hurt people, would he?"

Steve sighs and rubs his forehead, hard. He’s not sure that’s true, actually, no matter how much he likes Thor, but even so--

"Sorry," he says. "Sorry. What you're saying is probably right, I just--he _used you,_ Buck, and he could have killed Tony, and maybe Tony's acting like it's all good and they're friends now, but it kills him every time Loki's in the room. It doesn't matter if it's even his fault, I just can't...the way he's made you both look, I can't just forgive him."

Bucky sighs. "Hey, buddy," he says, "maybe you should let us take care of ourselves, huh? If we say it's okay, then it's okay. We might be a couple of fags, but we can _handle_ ourselves."

Steve startles. "I don't think you're--that!" he says.

Bucky presses his hand (the one that's still made of flesh and bone) against the glass. "Hey, moron. It's a good thing. It's done you a few good turns, anyway." He smiles to show he's not trying to be mean, but who knows how well that'll work.

"Fair enough," Steve says, blushing. "But I--Buck, you don't know what it's doing to Tony." He thumps the glass lightly where Bucky's hand is. "Maybe I just don't like him because he's too much like the people I care the most about, and he stirs up all their crap."

Bucky frowns. "Why, what's Tony's--No, not my business. He okay?" Tony's looked like he's halfway to a complete breakdown most times Bucky's seen him, actually.

"I don't always know," Steve admits, suddenly exhausted. "But no. He's not."

Bucky drags a hand through his hair. "Jesus," he says. "Wish I could give you a hug. Both of you. I swear I won't try to strangle you with my metal arm." He thinks that last part's still him. It all should be now, just once in awhile something comes out that feels like it came from the other side. “You should come back when Bruce and Tasha are here, and I will.”

Steve thumps the glass again, a little less gently. "Pym better have you out of here for good in the next few days," he says, "or I'll wring his neck. I will. Are you really sure about helping with Loki's plan?"

"Yes," Bucky says vehemently. "I need to _move._ I need to fight something, something I _believe_ in fighting. I don't feel like a person in this box."

"Trust me," Steve says, "I know how you feel. Okay. We'll get you out. We'll get you on board. It's a good plan, anyway, no matter how much I do or don't like Loki. Like working with Howard Stark again."

Bucky snorts. "Oh, God. Not that bad, I hope. See you soon?"

"Yeah," Steve says. "I'll see you soon.” He sags. “Oof. I'm tuckered out. You're the least stressful conversation I've had today, Buck, you know that? It's barely lunch time and I’m ready for bed."

"Cut yourself some slack and get some rest," Bucky says. "For me? Because I'm your pal and I know you know better than to keep pushing like an idiot?"

Steve is grateful. He smiles gratefully. "Promise," he says. "Unless we all get called up to fight Hydra again or the Hulk rampages or something. One grown-up nap, coming up." He heads for the door.

"Good man," Bucky calls after him. He sits back down, pleased. He feels a lot more like himself, or at least this one of his selves (not an objectionable one). He can't wait to get out of here and be able to be around normal people all the time. It straightens his head out.

He leans back against the wall and waits for whatever's next.


	17. loki and victor can say i love you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Of course I love you," he says, watching Loki closely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: references to past rape, trust issues, transphobia/cissexism

Victor is in his lab when Loki comes home, working on the robot army. He doesn't have as many of his materials here in New York, but he's making do. He has a few technical questions for Loki about weak points--not that it will matter, hopefully--and he's trying to think of a delicate way to ask.

The embassy's security system lets him know Loki's coming, so he's on his feet with his mask in his hand when Loki comes in.

"Victor," Loki says, with a relieved little smile. "Always industrious. I could bring you home, you know, to where your resources are."

"That will be essential, before we're done," Victor says lightly. "For now, it can wait. Where did you wander?"

"Back to Stark," Loki says. "To have an illicit affair. We were talking about his net. It's very clever. I need holly."

"Holly?" Victor echoes. "All right, I'm sure we can find some. I take it it went..." He narrows his eyes and tries to figure it out.

"Well," Loki fills in. "It went well, Victor. He's not stupid, and we aren't presently trying to kill each other, although I make him very, very uncomfortable."

"Presumably because you _did_ try to kill him," Victor says. "And because of your shared past difficulties." He puts his mask down.

"Yes," Loki says, and perches on a stool. "Why did it never bother you that I can be a man or a woman?"

" _Bother_ me?" Victor asks, frowning. "It's nothing to do with me. Why should it?"

"That's a poor reason, Victor; everyone always behaves as though other people are exactly to do with them. Fickle of me not to choose, though isn't it? And unfair other people can't do what I do."

"Oh," Victor says shortly, "Stark’s...transformation. Is that what this is about?"

Loki tilts his head curiously, hands crossed on his lap. "I have no idea," he says. "Tell me."

Victor sighs. "It cost him thousands of dollars and a lifetime of public humiliation to do what you do as easily as blinking. I imagine he's bitter." Victor really doesn't care for Stark.

Loki frowns. "He changed, you mean. But only...once?"

Victor chuckles and leans on his workbench. "Yes, that's right. He's not...a variety of things, like you. He just took it upon himself to make some...improvements." Victor is not the person to explain this. Latveria doesn't _have_ this concept, even now. They certainly didn't when Victor was young.

"No magic," Loki ponders. "Surgical, then?" He frowns. "But there's the beard--Victor, I have no idea what _thousands of dollars_ means. I assume you mean it was painful and expensive. Does it work?"

Victor thinks about the question. "No," he says finally. "I mean, not as well as what you do. That's why he was upset, I imagine. I don't know if they know about the chemical aspects of biology in Asgard, but what he did involves replacing female hormones with male ones. And apparently surgery as well, although I don't know which Stark has had." Even trying to avoid America, Victor has heard about this. Not recently, of course. Stark tries to keep things quiet.

"Ah," Loki says. He swings one leg out and kicks it against the leg of the stool. "He said he'd kill to do what I can. It's too bad I didn't know about this when I was _trying_ to hurt him."

Victor laughs. "You never cease to charm me. Well, a little incidental pain never...hurt anyone." He _really_ dislikes Tony Stark.

Loki casts him a long and sardonic look. "Oh, you truly can't bear anyone who acts like prey, can you? He isn't, but I can see his nerves make you nervous."

"Banner is worse," Victor says flatly. "I can't help it. I'm their natural predator."

Loki laughs, startled. "Banner," he says, "is exactly as much prey as it takes not to overwhelm every predator around him. He's not vulnerable, he's just canny."

Victor moves closer and puts his arm around Loki. "Clearly Thor likes people who remind him of home."

"Very sweet," Loki says. "If only we were not warring on the premise that I am vulnerable after all. Or perhaps I shouldn't say that--you might cease loving me."

He hasn't said that word before. Victor has, once or twice, with determined nonchalance, but Loki hasn’t. Not for either of them.

"But I do love you," Victor says in as neutral as a voice as he can. Inside, he panics a little.

"Oh, I know. You wouldn't make so many promises as you do, or treat with your enemies, or go to war if you did not," Loki says confidently, but it's been another long day. His mind is crowded with Tony's fear and Balder's rage and the clamor of the Avengers and the quarrel with Victor that was, after all, only this morning. He does not have very many recollections, not ever and certainly not recently, of being unshakably confident of somebody's love.

Victor can through him. And, he thinks, Loki is _right_. Victor has already exposed himself in every possible way. He has already shown Loki what he feels. Saying the words as though he means them, Victor thinks, isn’t any worse.

"Of course I love you," he says, watching Loki closely.

"No doubt," Loki agrees. He clasps his hands to his knees and tries to look pleased and a little bored. Anyone who wasn't stupid wouldn't do this.

Victor swallows hard. "I love you," he says again.

Loki half frowns and half smiles, like he ought to be in on the joke but isn't sure he's been given the right punchline.

"And you love me, too," Victor says fiercely. If Loki's allowed, so is he.

Loki laughs unevenly. "You’re sure of yourself," he says.

"I’m sure of you," Victor fires back.

"Victor," Loki says. That's begging. He always ends up begging, with Victor. It's almost comforting to get there.

"It's all right," Victor says steadily, certain now that it is. "You're allowed to love me. I'm allowed to love you. We're all right."

Loki hops off the stool and out of Victor's reach. Even if he agrees, he needs--a _moment_ where there's no touch. So he can tell whether he's choosing.

"That would be very stupid of me," Loki explains.

"Probably," Victor says, linking his fingers and glaring at them. "Are you wiser than I am, then?"

Loki blinks and grits his teeth and says after a moment, "No."

Victor takes a breath. "I didn't know," he explains. "I didn't know for certain."

"I’ve _told_ you everything I--" Loki starts, and then cuts off abruptly.

"What?" Victor asks, alarmed.

"I told you," Loki drags out of himself, "what I could _say."_

"Loki," Victor says. He almost takes a step toward him, but he doesn't.

"I told you," Loki says, "that I trust you. I told you I wanted--your home. I warned you away so you wouldn't be trapped with..."

"I was afraid," Victor says softly. "But I wanted to believe it. I--I trust you, too, Loki. I hope you know that. No matter how much of a fool it makes me."

Very carefully, Loki says, "Balder was the worst."

Victor makes an involuntary sound, strangled and furious. "Because he was kind first," he forces out through his teeth. "But Loki, I was _not_ kind first. I am only kind now."

"No," Loki says. "Not because he was kind. Not because I loved him, either. Because he loved me."

Victor grabs Loki's arm, and Loki flinches, startled into fear for the second before he remembers who Victor is and that he is safe. "You cannot turn me into that," Victor snarls. "I am incapable of it. Nothing you do will make me that sort of monster, and nothing in me will do it either."

"I didn't mean that," Loki tries to explain. "I didn't mean to say you were like that." It's hard to breathe.

Victor lets go and steps back. Loki looks...wrong. 

"I'm angry at him," Victor says. "Not at you. Loki, I--I don't care if you're wary of me. Not after hearing that half the people who mattered to you _were_ like that."

"That's all I meant," Loki whispers. "I only wanted to explain why."

"I'm sorry," Victor says. He takes Loki in his arms gently. Loki buries his face against Victor's cloak, where it fits and feels familiar. Victor, silly fool, should have known by now what it means when he does this.

Victor, Loki realizes with renewed certainty, must not learn where Loki has been. If he knew, he'd go for Balder's throat himself--and Loki needs Balder alive. Loki needs to kill him.

"I just--worry," Victor says, holding Loki against him. "I know I'm blinded by pride too often. I'll try to stop, when it comes to you." Despite his pride, his temper, and his tendency to rush into things, Victor thinks he's doing quite well.

"I like your pride," Loki says mildly. Victor laughs and kisses him.

Loki's arms find their way around Victor's neck, and he leans close to kiss Victor properly. He murmurs it back into the middle of their kiss, where it doesn't sound like words and Victor can't overhear it or overreact to it. It's a better start than not saying it at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate the idea of clogging up the text with my doodles, but sometimes they do happen, so HQA-related art has been [put here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/412838/chapters/685392). ~bluestalking


	18. hogun and fandral know better or worse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fandral looks at him, eyebrows pinched together. "You blame us, don't you?" he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: past rape/incest, rape culture/victim blaming

Hogun is at home, quietly having some mead after following Volstagg on a few important missions. Volstagg is enthusiastic about the idea of an uprising, despite his fears. Hogun has more misgivings, but of course it is necessary. For now, though, he wants to stay out of the way and wait for everything to come together.

The last thing he wants is to be interrupted.

Fandral, unfortunately, is the master of interruption, and he comes through the door without any warning. He shuts it emphatically behind him and calls, "Hogun! Are you home? Have you guests?"

Hogun buries his face in his hands. "No," he mutters. It doesn't matter. Fandral won't leave.

Hogun raises his voice slightly. "In here."

Fandral stalks into the very small, very tidy room where Hogun sits around to be even more absurdly quiet than usual and think about battle. Fandral says, hands upraised, "Don't bother being angry! I snooped."

Hogun sighs, and doesn't bother telling Fandral that he's ruining the peace and quiet, either. "I thought you might," he says. He waits. He doesn't want Fandral to repeat whatever details he's gleaned, but there is probably no stopping him.

For a moment Fandral's eye glitters with the joy of unspilled gossip, but then he sits down on the floor next to Hogun and says, "Don't worry, I didn't mention Loki's name. I simply asked a riddle around town. Most of the people I asked are probably too drunk to remember."

"Clever," Hogun says, meaning it. Fandral is always clever. But not always kind. "Have you solved the mystery?"

"I heard several good answers to my riddle," Fandral says, scratching his arm. "But I think all the men I asked led me wrong where the women led me right."

"Mm," Hogun says noncommittally. It is likely as he feared, then. "Well done." He stretches his shoulders in preparation to stand and leave the conversation.

"Hogun," Fandral asks quickly, "do you believe as the women do that a man like Tyr would truly not, in the heat of battle, ever stoop to rape?"

Hogun shuts his eyes. "I do," he says.

Fandral gets to his feet. "I suppose I'd believe Odin is less squeamish about it, too, especially if he's done as our friends say and bedded that monster in Jotunheim. But surely not his own child. Surrogate or no. Loki is a vicious liar, he may well be covering up with an unquestionable evil some other trouble he brought on himself and doesn't wish to reveal."

Hogun sighs sharply. "Humiliation is better? If it’s a lie, why hide it from us?"

Fandral shrugs. "Loki's no stranger to humiliation. I doubt that on its own would stop him pretending to anything. Bit of an egg-eating snake, I'd say. And really, I'd say his hiding the ‘truth’ makes this possibility even more incredible. Tyr and Thor may be bleeding hearts, and all Asgard knows the queen is one, so of course this story will wring the tears out of _them._ But us? It sounds _ridiculous,_ and it’s not the sort of thing people go to war for anyway. He's just playing the angles, Hogun, of course he is."

Hogun doesn't sigh. He just regards Fandral for a moment. Then he says, "Did you watch Loki, before?"

"I could hardly help noticing him," Fandral shrugs. "He was at Thor's heels, and therefore ours, constantly."

"Did you _look?"_ Hogun demands, a little more loudly. "His eyes? The way he shied away from touches? That he smiled always less? I noticed."

"Hogun," Fandral says, taken aback. This more words than Hogun is accustomed to make in one breath, and he is angry. "Then you think it _is_ the answer? The one the women gave? And that Loki's told his friends the truth?"

"Won’t say. You’ll gossip," Hogun says.

"Damn it," Fandral says, "if I wanted to gossip, I wouldn't be talking to you. Or telling riddles at the tavern. There's a line, you know, between gossip and talk. I simply wondered what you _thought._ If you knew something already. "

Hogun relents, but only because he has known Fandral for many years and trusts him at least a little.

"I suspected," he says. "Since Sif brought us in. I believe it." He adds as an afterthought, "We must not tell Volstagg."

Fandral says, "No, I suppose Volstagg wouldn't have the stomach for--" and then his expression goes a little sick. "Do you really think Odin...did such a thing? Loki's bedded enough people, it's no wonder if things grew messy a time or two. I'll believe in a moment that he's been had against his will. But I can't believe...surely this is a cover, and he's still merely seeking revenge at Odin for lying about his parentage and not giving him the throne."

Hogun's face darkens. "I believe. Even _you_ see it as punishment. The blame is on Loki this way.” He stops, out of words.

"But Odin is his _father,"_ Fandral says, and the grim, clench-of-the-stomach feeling he had when the washer-woman had voiced her answer comes over him again. "He is meant to father all of us."

"Think of fathers," Hogun says simply. He never thinks of his.

Fandral swallows and cedes the point. "So you're saying Odin deliberately punished Loki in a way Loki could never tell to anyone, and we let the youngster drag around at our feet afterwards and never paid enough mind to know if anything was wrong?" He shakes his head. "I can't think what the boy could have done to deserve it, even. I suppose he sneaked into something he should not have."

Hogun makes a tiny sound. "Oh," he says softly. "Perhaps..." He shrugs. "Our reason to go to war. Our public reason. Not a lie?"

"Oh, Hel," Fandral says. "He wasn't even meant to know he was a Frost Giant then. You don't suppose Odin really _is_ Loki's father? I hear the Frost Giants account for Loki's odd little habits around being a girl, and O--Hel knows Loki's birthed enough children."

Hogun nods, distressed. "Yes." He doesn't want to think about that. "He is small."

"About our size," Fandral agrees. "Well. This is uncomfortable." He winces, and then looks sincerely upset. "Hogun. Thor said that what Odin did, Balder did too."

"I know," Hogun says unhappily. He never liked Balder, but he never said that, of course. And he still never would have thought Balder capable of this.

Fandral puts his hand on his forehead and leans against the wall. "You're right," he says, "that Volstagg mustn't know. It would kill him. Or he'd kill Odin."

"Or die trying," Hogun agrees. Volstagg is too big-hearted for Asgard.

"Ah," sighs Fandral, "and anyone who killed Volstagg I would have to kill in turn."

"Then it is good we are going to war," Hogun says. He's even angrier than before, enough that it shows.

Fandral looks at him, eyebrows pinched together. "You blame us, don't you?" he says. "You think you should have said something when you saw the changes in him. You think we all should have noticed and stopped teasing long enough coax the truth out of him."

"I didn't tease," Hogun says quietly. "But yes. We should have helped. He did not fall because of one person."

Fandral thumps the side of his fist lightly against the wall. "I suppose if we'd noticed the first time he got odder," he says, "we could have stopped the rest from happening."

That is a disheartening thought.

"Perhaps," Hogun says. "Asgard is brutal. We might have been no use." He pauses. He hates speaking, but this is important. "Or we could have stopped it," he says.

"It was just so hard to know, with him," Fandral says, but it sounds like excuses even to his own ears. "He was always a little strange, wasn't he?"

"Stranger, with time," Hogun says. "Sadder. More vicious."

Fandral looks more upset, now. "You make me wish I had more patience for weakness. I don't know that I've ever liked him, but I never would have truly hurt him, not on purpose. I suppose it did not seem that way from the other perspective."

"It never does," Hogun says, shrugging. He was never cruel to Loki, but he was never kind, either. He just noticed things. "But now we go to war for him," he says.

That perks Fandral up. "Mustn't tell him we know why, of course!" he says. "And absolutely not Volstagg. He would ruin the entire plan. Whatever that is."

"That troubles me," Hogun says, frowning. He would like to know what the plan _is._ And if it’s even possible.

"I hope they're not letting Loki plan," Fandral says. "He always has the cleverest plans, and they _never_ work out."

Hogun pales. "Surely Tyr..." But no. Loki will probably want to plan this himself.

"Never mind," Fandral says, and leans over to clap Hogun on the back. "Last minute we shall tell Volstagg the truth after all, and he will save all from the brink of collapse with a single bellow."

Hogun makes a noise. He hopes that doesn't happen, but one never knows. "Something more subtle," he suggests.

"I hardly know what to hope for," Fandral says, and leans down further still to plant a kiss on Hogun's forehead.

Hogun smiles. "Whatever it is, we will...manage." It's his brand of comfort.

"Naturally," Fandral says, straightening up. "We are the Warriors Three, _and_ the Lady Sif, and the gods are on our side."

"Not all of them," Hogun says, not quite enough under his breath.

"Ah, well," Fandral says.

Hogun gets to his feet and pats Fandral's arm. "We may stand a chance." Privately, he thinks their best chance is likely not a direct confrontation.

Fandral looks pleased about the arm, and puts it around Hogun's shoulders. "I will just think very hard of that chance, my friend," he says, "and hope learning the plan doesn't dash it all to pieces."

Hogun nods and gives Fandral's cheek a quick nuzzle. "Until then."

Fandral looks surprised. "It's very late," he says. "Will you not let me stay?"

"I was looking forward to some peace and quiet," Hogun says pointedly, but he doesn't make a move to slip out from under Fandral's arm.

"Ah, but if you treat me well enough," Fandral points out, "you can have both in abundance."

Hogun snorts. "Only if I exhaust you." Truthfully, though, that is easily done. Fandral exhausts quickly.

"Then your night is spoiled," Fandral says. "Since I, as you know, am not without great effort exhausted."

"Mm, the greatest stamina of us all," Hogun says flatly.

"Now, now, you know full well that title goes to Sif," Fandral says, patting him. "But I am not so bad myself. Come, Hogun, stop me talking and start me moaning, the sooner to silence me." He gives a very winning smile.

Hogun is not charmed. But he's willing to comply anyhow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fandral's drunken riddling is [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/397596/chapters/654147) in _Three Times Loki Couldn't Keep A Secret_.


	19. balder the brave is not to blame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> But he does have the bow and arrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: confrontation with rapist, violence, abusive language, assault, victim blaming

This time, Loki finds Balder in the woods as he hunts alone. Loki does not shimmer with madness as he did the last time, but he is clearly mad even so, under his shadowed eyes and his stillness.

Balder sees Loki and startles, his bow dropping from his hands. His mouth goes dry.

"You came back," he says hoarsely. He wishes he had brought others with him. He does not know what Loki will be this time.

Loki licks his lips. "I will go if you demand it," he says. "Only I’ve seen that there is nowhere I would choose to go but here."

Balder grips his bow so hard he can feel the wood start to splinter. " _Why?"_ he demands. "What is wrong with you? All I do is hurt you." There's no apology in his voice, only condemnation.

"That's not true," Loki says. "You were my friend. You were always good to me."

Balder wants to strike out at Loki until he is silent. "Stop it," he says. "You don't know what you're saying. All I did was fuck you and sometimes listen to your tales. Was that so valuable?"

Loki flinches, and straightens up from where he's leaning against a fallen tree. He looks wilder, suddenly. "I don't have anywhere else," he says. His voice is out of key with itself. "I cannot live in Asgard, nor in Jotunheim, and now Midgard is become as unwelcoming. If you are not my friend, Balder, perhaps you owe me your protection just the same."

If Balder were not in his own kingdom, he might tremble. As it is, he takes several steps back and raises his bow, arrow loose, but at the ready.

"I owe you nothing, big brother," he says quickly.

"Such a defense!" Loki says nastily, and his eyes are lambent and frantic. "You loved me perfectly well until the moment I threatened your ego, and then you wrested me apart and threw me aside like any spoiled child with a plaything that does not do what he wishes. I treated you, alone in Asgard, as though you might be capable of anything _but_ that, and look what you did. You owe me anything I ask! _Don’t you?"_

"You were no plaything," Balder spits. "You were an animal, even then. And I loved you anyway. Until I saw that there were things other than monsters in the Nine Realms." He steps back again.

"Other things?" Loki sneers, pacing forward. His step is uneven. "Such as the beast of a woman who is your wife? The one who keeps you out of sight of your throne and out of reach of her bed, who makes you as little a king as Frigga made you a man? Tell me _she_ is not your support of such an insult!"

Balder surges forward and grabs Loki by the throat. He hates to touch him, but.

"You must be brave," he says, giving Loki a little shake. "So very brave to speak in this way, the way that caused me to hurt you in the first place."

Loki gulps down a sob, his hands clawing at Balder's wrist and fingers. "The difference between...Karnilla and me," he rasps, "is that I loved you. Even as you raped me." His eyes are bright and they burn where he sees through Balder.

Balder throws Loki from him with a cry, shoving him hard enough to knock him to the ground.

"Enough!" he shouts. He goes for his sword only to realize he doesn't have it. But he does have the bow and arrow.

Loki huffs a breath when Balder looks to his weapons.

"Balder. You're a coward," he says, without trying to stand or defend himself. "You're a coward and a child. I was frightened of being alone without you and you destroyed everything good between us just to blind yourself to my fear."

Balder blinks and does not yet reach for his bow. He has no defense, no words to say, so perhaps he must end this here and now--but Balder the Pure would not kill an unarmed foe.

"I am not blind now," he says. Of course Loki is afraid.

"Yes you are. If you were not still blind," Loki says, his fingers digging into moss and fallen leaves edged with ice, "you would be too ashamed to deny me. If I am a monster--it is not why you raped and disowned me. You couldn’t. You simply cannot bear anyone to be fragile but yourself. And you are. Like glass."

Balder doesn't cry out this time, not aloud. He just darts, quickly and silently, to pick up his bow and arrow from among the leaves. He whirls and aims at Loki, bow pulled taut. His hands don't shake, although perhaps later he could say they did.

Loki stares at him silently, and for a moment he doesn't look mad at all--but he does still look frightened. He climbs to his feet, slowly.

"You're right," he almost whispers, fists clenching and unclenching. "I was a slut and a beast and you didn't need me. I had no right to keep you. You’d never think otherwise. I am a fool."

Whatever Balder expected, it wasn't this. He keeps the arrow trained on Loki, pointed at his heart.

"You are a fool indeed," he says softly.

“Please,” Loki starts, and then shuts his mouth. When he speaks again, his voice is uneven but unbroken. “Will you let me go, brother, or will you kill me?”

Balder pauses for a long moment, watching Loki breathe. Then he says, "I’ll let you go. But if you return and I have a weapon to hand, I make no promises about what I will do."

Loki nods wearily, and ( _dangerously_ ) walks away.

Balder keeps his arm drawn back until it begins to shake from the strain. When Loki is nearly out of sight, the string slips from his fingertips. He releases the arrow. It cuts through the air and strikes Loki in the back of the left calf.

Loki drops, fast, with an animal yelp that turns into a quickly stifled moan. He is only still for a few seconds; then his head whips around and he stares at Balder, face ugly and stricken, hands groping against the trunk of a tree as he pulls himself upright. The arrow dangles from the hole in his trousers. Balder hadn't intended that. He wanted either a clean kill or a clean escape. A clean escape, not a kill, just a fright. Not a _mess._

"You're bleeding," he says. Then, "Get out." 

He has a little knife in his belt. He could finish this.

But Loki wastes no time. He staggers forward, surprisingly fast, though limping terribly and bleeding heavily. He dodges behind an old, thick-trunked tree, and does not come out from the other side.

"Loki!" Balder calls. He knows Loki will be gone. "Coward!" he shouts, after another moment of ringing silence.

When Loki fails to reappear, Balder curses under his breath. His only consolation is that Loki has no one to bear tales to. Who would listen?


	20. tony stark has a late-night guest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You're about as good at taking care of yourself as I am," Tony mutters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: injury/stitches, self-destructive LIES, flashbacks to assault, possible Jotun-themed xenophobia?, how do you warn for 'Loki stop deliberately putting yourself in Balder's way'?

It's the middle of the night when Loki appears in Tony's room, visible by a small glow of cold blue light in his hand.

"Stark," he says, soft and insistent, trying to wake Tony without waking Steve, who is sleeping beside him. "Stark, get up. I have something for you to do."

Tony is awake instantly, blinking a few times to get his bearings. He takes a breath and tries to stop his heart from racing. The adrenaline surge of seeing someone his brain still codes as _enemy_ in his bedroom isn't good.

"Loki?" he mouths. Loki doesn't look like there's anything immediately wrong with him. Maybe Tony _should_ worry.

"Stark," Loki answers, with a twist of a smile. "I got my holly. It's in your lab. I need something from you before I can begin to work on it."

Tony rolls out of bed, careful not to wake Steve. Steve gets little enough sleep as it is.

He motions for Loki to follow him out into the hall. Once they're out there, he says, "Okay, tell me what a _god_ needs from me."

Loki grimaces. "I don't have healing magic," he says. "Neither does Victor, and he'd be problematically unhappy to know I slipped up badly enough as I was...acquiring materials...that I'd require it."

Tony's eyebrows go up. "Slipped up? _How_ badly, exactly? Look, never mind, lab. Now." He turns on his heel and heads off down the hall, hoping Loki follows. This is bad.

"I'll meet you there," Loki hisses after him. He'd rather run his magic almost dry than limp behind; he's forced several hours of exertion on what is not an inconsequential muscle injury, and simply not showing his pain or letting his knees buckle is becoming an awful challenge.

Tony practically runs to his lab. When he gets there, he's panting, and he makes himself slow everything down a little. If Loki needs serious help, he has to be useful. He doesn't want to have to bring anyone else in on this.

Loki is waiting for him, hand braced against a support pillar, backed by a wild mass of holly--not just branches, it seems, but roots and dirt as well. "Very good," he says. "I apologize for not taking your way down. This seemed better."

"It's fine," Tony says, a little stunned. "It's--where did you--What's up?"

"Very little to worry about," Loki says. "We have what we need. I should be able to begin my work tomorrow. And, you will be pleased, I think, to hear that no one saw who I was, in Alfheim; we remain safe from discovery. Though, they did shoot at me."

"At you?" Tony asks carefully. "But you're okay, right?"

Loki makes an odd expression that isn't a smile and says, "More or less. But not every arrow missed."

Tony winces. "So they grazed you, right?"

But Loki would be in Tony's lab if he'd just been _grazed._ He’d probably, given how it works with Thor, be healed.

Loki's eyes narrow. "I know it's the middle of the night, Stark, and an easy answer would be a relief to my dragging you down here. But I--" He shifts his weight and catches his breath, and for several long seconds he is still and silent. "I only need help hiding it from Victor until after everything is done with."

"Sit the hell down," Tony snaps, mostly because he's really worried. "Right now. Then show me." He shoves some tools out of the way to clear a space for Loki.

Loki levers himself over and drops gracelessly into the proffered chair. He leans back and tucks one foot behind one of the chairs wheels. His other leg is extended, mostly, and in the lab's light and when Loki isn't hiding it, it's easy to see that a large area of his dark green trouser leg is darker with blood.

"Isn't it odd that I bleed like an Asgardian?" he muses. "If I changed like this, would it change? I've never tried."

"Let's not test it right now," Tony says quickly. That's a lot of blood. He kneels and pushes up Loki's trouser leg.

"Shit," he says. He'd intended not to say anything.

"It took me awhile to get back," Loki explains. He doesn't snatch his leg away or kick Tony in the face, and that, he thinks, is good while it lasts.

"You're about as good at taking care of yourself as I am," Tony mutters. "This is going to take some cleaning. And stitches. Maybe more. It wasn't a magic arrow, was it?"

"No," Loki sighs. "Only the usual kind. Though the usual kind in--Alfheim leaves a crueller mark than it does in Midgard. May take a week or so to heal. Can you sew flesh, Stark? I thought you might, from your heart. At least I thought you might not be squeamish."

"Not squeamish at all," Tony promises. "And I know a few things about stitches, yeah. It's not that hard. I just need to grab some supplies and--I don't know, can you hold still if it hurts a lot? I'm not sure I have anything on hand to numb the pain. Well, whiskey. Ha."

"I don't need anything," Loki says. "I can hold still." He does that thing, saying it, where it's impossible to tell if he's painfully old or painfully young.

Tony winces, hides it badly, and gets to work collecting supplies from around the lab. It doesn't take long. He tries to have these things handy.

"Okay," he says, "I want you to get yourself positioned so the wound is exposed and you're relaxed."

"Can you work, if I stay in the chair?" Loki asks. "Or do you need me to--" he chokes on the words _lie down,_ completely unexpected. Balder's hands are on his throat. Not only on his throat.

Tony sees something happen on Loki's face and isn't sure what it is, but he can guess. " _Sorry,"_ he says miserably. "I really do."

"No matter," Loki says, and looks around Tony's crowded workshop for somewhere to put himself.

Tony starts to clear off a workbench. "I can talk you through it," he says. "Distract you. Play music. Whatever you need. It doesn't have to be...I know you're having a really shitty time right now."

"Hardly more than usual," Loki says. He heaves himself upright and finds his balance, weight on his good foot, and then limps over to Tony. "I prefer quiet." He'd rather be able to hear. He hoists himself up onto the table, and grasps its edge until he forces down the bile, and can lie on his side without his stomach threatening to revolt.

"Quiet," Tony says. "Got it, right. Only I'm going to keep talking. Both because I literally can't stop and because I think it might help if you can hear me, right? Don't answer that. Okay, I'm going to clean it."

Loki is animal-still, and he doesn't answer. Tony cleans the wound, muttering under his breath, singing snatches of songs, making one or two noises of alarm at how much blood there is.

"Done that," he says after a few minutes. "Disinfected and clean. I don't know how extensive the muscle damage is, though. I might want to figure that out before I stitch it up."

"Of course," Loki says. He hasn't shifted, but his shoulders are visibly tense.

"I'm not a doctor," Tony warns him. "Just going to do my best. I'm guessing since you walked around on it for a while, it's not as bad as it could be." Or it's worse.

"JARVIS," Tony says, "I need you to run some diagnostics."

"Certainly, sir," JARVIS says, and one of the bots wheels itself over to crane its eye over Loki's leg. That makes Loki jump.

"Your inventions," he says to Tony, quieting himself, "are as disconcerting as Victor's."

"But I'm reacting a lot better than Doom would," Tony says, sounding more cheerful than he feels. "He'd probably slaughter half of--wherever you said you went gardening."

Loki shudders. "He can't know," he says, more vehemently than he intends. "He absolutely mustn't know."

"I don't know how to put this lightly," Tony says, "but you'd better come up with an excuse not to take your pants off, then."

"I know," Loki says, with nearly human-sounding misery.

"All things considered? I think you could get away with it right now, if ever," Tony says. He bites his lip. Probably a stupid thing to say. He's been avoiding the issue, with Steve. Or maybe they're just both been tired.

"Has your machine finished with me?" Loki snaps.

Tony doesn't bother apologizing. It won't help. "Yeah," he says. "Given your accelerated healing rate, I think you're going to be okay if I just stitch you up. But you should really stay off the leg. Not that that's feasible right now."

"I'll manage," Loki says nastily. Pauses. "Thank you for helping me."

"Yeah," Tony says. "Yeah, don't mention it. We're working together. Besides..." He trails off. Besides _what?_ He doesn't really have any reason to trust or like Loki. "Okay!" he says instead. "Get ready, I'm going to start."

Loki mumbles something Tony can't hear, but it sounds rude. Tony snorts and bends over Loki's leg. He keeps humming quietly as he begins to stitch. It's really important that Loki can hear him. 

Loki tucks his head against the crook of his elbow and digs his fingernails into his arms. But he doesn't squirm, or make a noise. Somehow that makes him seem more vulnerable, not less. He's _trying_ so hard.

"Easy," Tony whispers, "gonna be okay, just some good old-fashioned medical care, not even a big wound, although you probably shouldn't have, yeah, but we'll fix you up..."

Loki's grip on his arms loosens just a little, and his breathing gets steadier, only hitching when the needle goes in.

"Okay," Tony says after a minute, tying off the surgical thread. "I think you're good to go. Only, not fast. Or far."

Loki sits up gingerly. "No need for either. I think this was my last stealth mission until Hogun goes to Nornheim."

Tony frowns. "Yeah. Probably a good...What lives in Alfheim, anyway?"

"Alfs," Loki says blankly.

"Okay," Tony says, "are we talking, like, Alien Life Forms? Brown and furry? Scary snouts? Eat cats? Like that kind of ALF?"

Loki stares at him, wondering if possibly _he_ has been overcome by madness.

"Earth thing," Tony says. "Never mind. Well, whatever they are, they really did a number on you for stealing their holly."

"More or less the normal reaction, whether I am stealing holly or not," Loki says, a little sour.

"Mm," Tony says noncommittally. "Those Alfs." Not his business, though.

Loki tugs down his trouser leg over his boots, and then makes a face at the blood spotting his fingertips.

"I would offer you magic in immediate repayment," he says, "but I'm afraid I've exhausted myself."

Tony tamps down on another spike of adrenaline and _doesn't think about things._ "Uh," he says, "how about you just do me a favor and cover up that bruise on your neck and we'll call it even."

Loki's hand jumps to his throat.

"The light was bad before," Tony explains. "Didn't see it. And I was more focused on your arrow wound. You know. From the...yeah. You might want to consider the whole 'keep your clothes on for a while' thing."

He'd ask where Loki actually was, but Loki would probably lie.

"That is probably wise," Loki says, small and stilted. He laughs--it's probably a laugh, anyway, but choked and unhappy. He says, "If I looked like a Jotun he probably wouldn't see either injury. And he wouldn't want my clothes off in that case whether I did or not."

"Then he's a dick," Tony says without thinking. He knows this. He knows Jotuns are giant ice monsters that do things like what Loki did to Bruce's arm. "Although it makes sense," Tony amends.

Loki shuts his eyes and shakes his head. "Only because I'll hurt him," he says. "I forget how to be safe. Like that."

Tony wants to ask how it feels to have multiple choice bodies, but Loki is injured, exhausted, and has spent the past few days being forced by insensitive idiots to recount his sexual traumas. Possibly not the time.

"Then take care of yourself, okay?" Tony says. "Cover up, avoid him when you can, and make it up to him when we're through this mess."

Loki's shoulders slump. "I should not have let him get so close," he mutters. "I will ruin the whole plot before it begins unfolding, by not being clever enough."

"Sometimes you can't predict other people," Tony says uncomfortably. "No matter how clever you are. I don't know what happened, but if you need any other help...Look, just don't take any more stupid risks. Unless you have to."

"Concerned for me out of love for Thor?" Loki asks sardonically. "Or perhaps just your natural heroism." He doesn't mean anything vicious by it. It's only disorienting, and he's too weary and worried to be nice in the correct measures.

"Probably just a concern for my sleep schedule," Tony says lightly. He doesn't know if he can get away with saying he just doesn't like anyone getting hurt in nasty ways. Maybe in a few years, with his past farther behind him.

"I'll let you back to that," Loki says softly. He's slouching with his head tilted down, and it hides the bruises on his neck. "I promise to show you the magic tomorrow, as well. It will serve to keep me away from Victor, and--I hope you'll take it as repayment?"

Tony feels a little ill for no reason he can easily pinpoint. "No repayment necessary, okay? All kidding aside. But that's a plan anyway. And listen, you probably want some antibiotics for the wound and some makeup for the bruise. Just to make things tidy."

Loki looks up at the last. "Oh," he says, as though he truly hasn't thought of anything as obvious as that. "Yes. Maybe I should..."

Tony is about to say, _I'll text Pepper and have her get some,_ but then he remembers what time it is, and _then_ he remembers that she doesn’t do that anymore. God, he needs to be asleep. Or drunk. 

"I'll get you some first thing tomorrow," he says.

"Of course," Loki says, letting himself down off the table. "I'll just go--I'll just go home."

Tony can feel himself getting wound tighter. "I have spare rooms," he says. "Dozens. If you want to avoid Doom tonight." He still doesn't trust Loki at _all,_ but he's tired and upset and yeah, he feels bad for the guy. It's impossible not to.

"Oh," Loki says. "I don't know. Victor might--I shouldn't be...he'll think I've left him." He can barely get his words out intelligibly. Under his tiredness, Loki feels the sharp notion of growing fear, that he won't be able to hide and that he'll have to scramble every moment for days to make his plan work, and that if he is in this kind of shape, perhaps he won't be able to keep up. Perhaps next time he goes to Nornheim, Balder will kill him. Or fuck him, which was more what he-- 

One of those is worse. He has to stop thinking about them both.

"Hey," Tony says sharply. "Hey, hey, hey, sit the fuck down. You're going to have something to eat and something to drink and then we're going to make a _very simple plan._ Okay?"

Tony would say Loki doesn't know when to slow down, but the parallels are already painful.

"Oh!" Loki says. He and Tony are fairly close to one another, and when he looks up and meets Tony's eyes, his are startling, too bright and too large, as though he's feverish. Or not quite sane. "I had not thought of food," he explains.

"Give me five minutes, and don't move," Tony says. " _Sit."_ Without waiting for a response, he dashes out to see if he can find food on his own. Besides, he can't deal with being in a room with Loki for too long. Things keep taking him by surprise and being alarming.

Loki waits until Tony is gone, and then sits down very carefully in the chair he’d occupied before. He starts thinking through the weaving of the net, and while Tony is gone, he tries to decide which parts of the work Tony will like best.

Tony is back in eight minutes, with a turkey sandwich and a glass of juice. He has no idea what Loki likes to eat, but it should help for now.

"Hey," he says, skidding into the room. "Here you go. Enjoy."

Loki takes the things from him hesitantly, and he hesitates to start eating as well, but he eats fast when he starts, and his head starts to clear less than halfway through.

"Thank you," he says. He is awake enough now that he remembers not to cry or tell the truth or treat Tony Stark like his moment of kindness means that they're friends. Remembering that takes all of his excess energy, though, and he can't manage another word of conversation.

Tony nods. He's just been watching Loki, trying to figure him out. "Okay," he says, "so here's the plan. You send word to Victor--I don't know, call, text, magic--and let him know you're off collecting things for our net and you'll be back in the morning. Then you sleep here. Good?"

"I've never done that," Loki says. "The--mortal ways. I don't know anything about them. I...think I can use magic."

Tony is about to say, _I'll teach you,_ but he thinks not tonight. "If you're up to it, go for it," he says instead.

Loki gives him a long, wary look, and then says, "Only if you'll leave while I do."

"'Course," Tony says. He's starting to get less jittery and more tired, which is good. "I'll show you your room and you can call from there. C'mon."

Loki gets up, not stiffly, but with the kind of careful catty grace that means he's hiding pain. He follows Tony, gauging how regularly he can walk without flinching.

Tony tries not to notice Loki too much on the way to the bedroom. He also tries not to keep track of the ways in which their self-destructiveness does and doesn't overlap.

"Here," he says when they reach one of the many spare rooms. "This should be okay for tonight. I'll get you that stuff in the morning. I mean, real morning."

Loki steps inside, peering into the darkness and looking for traps. He turns around. "I did not really know how to hurt you when I tried," he says quietly. "Now I cannot seem to stop. I am sorry for that."

Tony shivers and stares at him. "Oh," he says. He tries out several sentences that could come next and finally says, "Thanks. That's okay." He rubs his arms and smiles at Loki. "Listen, get some rest, okay? Call your stupid boyfriend and then _sleep._ Things'll look better tomorrow."

He really hopes that's true.

Loki reaches out and turns on the light. It makes him look tired and young and hurt and not particularly dangerous. "If I'm lucky," he says, with a little smile that looks as though he doesn't really believe in his own good luck. "Good night, Stark."

"Night," Tony says, leaving the smile on. He wants--well, he knows Loki is dangerous, and he still feels a little sick whenever he looks at him, but he wants someone to hug Loki. Although _he_ won't do it.

"You'll be okay," he says when he's already turned around and heading down the hall.

Loki doesn't answer that. He shuts the door, eventually.


	21. no one but bucky gets a good night's sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: drunk character/alcohol abuse, possible alcoholism, body dysphoria (trans character), past rape, mental health issues/PTSD, injury

Loki spends only a few minutes inspecting the apartment Stark has lent him and waiting to see if Stark comes back. He's too tired for more, and every step pulls on his stitches in a stomach-lurching way. As soon as he's ascertained that Stark is not, as he told the boy in the lab, watching him constantly, he sits heavily in a chair by the desk and summons what's left of his energy in sending a message to Victor.

~

The sending finds its way to their bedroom in the embassy, and settles on the bureau by the bed with an unnecessary amount of clapping feather and skittering claw.

Victor awakens with a start to the sound of something alive in the room. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, but Loki has been out so long that Victor had decided he wasn't coming back tonight.

He reaches for his mask, but he realizes it's only a bird. A bird that shouldn't have been able to get in.

He narrows his eyes. After the wolf, he's wary. "What are you doing here, little creature?" he asks.

"Letting you know I haven't run off," the magpie croaks, pacing in a circle. It freezes halfway around to stare with intense greed at something on the bureau, and then huffs its feathers and continues turning when it reveals itself to be one half of a broken chain mail link.

Victor laughs, mostly with relief. "I thought it was you. Where are you? I missed you at dinner."

He can say these things to a bird.

"No fear," the magpie retorts. "Got a sandwich from Stark." It reaches behind itself and worries at the broken link after all. Hard to resist. "Went on the hunt," it explains. "Got plenty of holly. Hard to stop working."

Victor nods, but he's uneasy. He doesn't trust Loki not to do something very foolish--especially now, but truly at any time.

"I want to see you tomorrow," he says. "I need your opinion on the robots."

The magpie makes an annoyed sound, remembering that it's not wholly corporeal and can't pick anything up. "Very well," it says. "Though I don't know what you think I know about robots."

"I miss you," Victor snaps. It sounds pathetic. It's not true. It won't be true for another day at least.

"I've only just left the house," the magpie says crankily. "I do have work, Victor, this is a rather important part of the plan." It clacks its beak and chatters a little to itself. Victor can tell Loki is hiding something (Loki is nearly always hiding something), but he can't tell what. It's maddening.

"Just be _safe,"_ he says sharply. "This is no time to overextend yourself."

The magpie chatters more loudly, which must be laughter. "Safer here than anywhere in nine realms," it says sardonically. "Sweet heroes are all afraid I'll snap in two. Like being smothered in worried cushions." It gives an odd, bobbing hop, catching its balance with its long, flat tail. Victor snorts, but he does feel better. The Avengers are moderately skilled at battle, but they should be _quite_ skilled at handling emotional minefields by now.

"Try not to murder any of them," he says.

"No fear," the magpie says again, perhaps fondly. "That girl I almost killed is the only troubling one. Steve Rogers, the only one that dislikes me. Too honorable to be a problem."

Victor is glad Loki has their measure. He thinks he agrees, although perhaps not about the girl. "Then we're doing better than we have any right to," he says. By _we,_ he means Loki. He thinks nearly all of them dislike _him._

The magpie shuffles its wings. "Yes, well," it croaks gruffly. "They're fools." Then it clacks its beak abruptly. "Sorry to call in the middle of the night. I should go."

"Sleep well," Victor says, feels jarringly like a normal man getting a midnight phone call from an absent spouse on a business trip.

"I'll stop work and sleep a bit, just for you," the magpie says brazenly. But it dips its tail. "Sleep well, Victor. I will see you soon."

Victor reaches out and brushes his hand as close as he dares without disturbing the half-solid bird. "Goodnight."

The magpie takes off in a burst of beating feathers, and seems to stop existing as it reaches the shadows by the door. Victor waits for a moment before determining that he won't get any more sleep tonight. Instead, he goes to his lab to work on Loki's army.

~

Tony is tired, but he isn't _sleeping_ tired. So he does the other thing. The thing that's more helpful with every separate little panic that Loki sends spiraling off in his head.

The problem with alcohol, Tony thinks, is that it doesn't do the whole _depressant_ thing with him. He doesn't get tired and he doesn't really get _down,_ so instead, he walks. And it's his building, so why not?

He doesn't really mean to end up in Hank’s lab, but he drank a little too fast and didn't have anything to eat. So here he is. Only one light is on, but it's enough to see both Bruce and Bucky by. Bruce is sitting crosslegged on a lab table, twisting around to look at him. Bucky is asleep in his cell, looking a lot more babyfaced than he does when he’s awake.

"Tony," Bruce whispers. "It's after four in the morning."

"Ohh, wow," Tony says. His voice slurs embarrassingly. He should be better at controlling that. "Yeah, don't worry about me, just, you know, checking in." He stands up straighter and grins. "Didn't want to wake Steve."

Bruce stiffens--first his whole body, and then his expression.

"Don't do this here," he says. "Whatever you're doing, don't start a--the kid's finally asleep. He’s had a long day." He went _outside_ today, which maybe Tony should know, but it’s been impossible to keep him up-to-date on anything, lately.

"I won't wake him up," Tony says, but he doesn't lower his voice. Being drunk makes all the spite he thought he'd gotten rid of rear back up again. His limbs feel loose.

Bruce uncrosses his legs and jumps down from the table. "You're drunk," he says.

"Whoops," Tony says, and he means that. He meant to have a drink (or, okay, a few drinks) to relax, but it's hitting him harder than he meant it to. He's too tired and hungry to be drinking. Whoops.

"It's okay, though," he says, waving his hand. "Everything is _fine._ God, why'd Thor have to come here? I mean, I know he's your boyfriend and all, but I wish he'd just stayed in his own damn realm."

“I'm pretty sure Thor didn't make you get drunk," Bruce says, casting a quick glance back at Bucky. Although, maybe. "Get out of here. I'll come with you, just please stop--making noise."

Tony is about to get stubborn, but that always devolves into getting childish, and he doesn't want to do that. He doesn't really want to do any of this, but it's too late for that.

"Where're we going?" he asks. "I have a spare room if you want to make out." It's half-hearted and still horrible.

"Shut up," says Bruce, coming around the table. He gives Tony a little shove towards the door.

Tony jerks away. He's had trouble before with people touching him when he's drunk or his guard is down, mostly since the whole kidnapping incident.

"Just, watch it, okay?" he says a little frantically. "Look, it was just one drink, just to put me back to sleep." That's a series of very small, pointless lies.

Bruce crosses his arms and doesn't budge. "Are you going to leave this room?" he asks quietly.

"I wish _he_ hadn't come here, either," Tony says, gesturing at Bucky's cell. He doesn't even mean that anymore.

Bruce doesn't bother with any of the perfectly reasonable, angry things he could say in response, because Tony isn't being reasonable. Instead he says, "Tony. Why are you drunk and alone in a basement at four in the morning?"

Tony blinks at him. "See," he says after a second, "you're actually the worst person I could have come to. Because you don't deal with things the way other people do." Tony is actually a little scared of what Bruce will _see_ if he looks at Tony now.

Then he remembers the question and says, "Loki."

Bruce considers that before he answers. "Loki is why you were awake?" he asks.

Tony nods and his head swims. "He woke me up so I could deal with--something. Something I dealt with. Only he makes he feel--" He runs a hand through his hair and tries to get his thoughts in order.

"Like shit, apparently," Bruce says. "Okay. If we're not leaving, sit down. I'm getting you some water. I don't care if you want it."

Tony sits, a little faster than he means to. "I'm fine," he says fuzzily.

"I know," Bruce says, "you're drunk. Tomorrow you'll have a hell of a hangover. Hang on." There's a cooler in here, luckily, with disposable cups attached to it. Bruce remembers Tony calling it essential equipment; left to his own devices, Hank would probably drink toxic chemicals from a beaker and turn into a giant moth or something. He brings Tony a couple of cups and sets them on a table. He drags a chair over and sits on it backwards, facing him.

"Something he's doing on purpose?" Bruce asks. "Loki, I mean."

Tony completes the suddenly complicated procedures of drinking some water before answering.

"That's the worst part," he says bitterly. "It's not. He _apologized._ Guess he can't help being a rape victim who can change genders."

The table feels suddenly far away. He didn't mean to say that.

Bruce is quiet for a few seconds. "I guess not," he says.

Tony buries his face in his hands and says, "Shit."

Bruce hesitates again. "I'm not Thor," he says finally. "I'm just dating him." That might be a little too complicated for Tony under these circumstances, but he isn't sure how to clarify.

Tony just stares at him. "I want another drink," he says flatly.

"I'm not surprised," says Bruce. "Have some water."

Tony nods and takes a sip. "I'm going to be really apologetic tomorrow," he says. "But, uh. I think maybe I'm in real trouble. I keep getting--I keep having--I've been pretty consistently triggered for _days_ now." He's scared to stop talking and miserable about not stopping.

"We've been on Loki's crusade for days," Bruce agrees. "Who _hasn't_ been saying the wrong shit to you? Hank? Clint?"

"Amazingly, yes," Tony says, smiling. "But I've stayed away from both of them, I guess. I just. This isn't supposed to...I'm not...I guess I just figured all of that was kind of history. But it's not Loki's fault that it isn't." He takes another sip of water.

Bruce rubs his eyes, pushing his glasses up. "No," he says. "It's not. It's not your fault either. People don't typically just get over that kind of thing. Especially not if they spend--however much time pretending it never happened. See again, Loki."

Tony backhands his cup of water off the table. "Damn it," he snaps. "I hate it, I hate it, we're going to _war_ for him and it's--None of it's going to work, though, he won't get better, and--But at least his body is--"

He grabs the edge of the table, because he can feel himself going sideways. Bruce puts out a firm hand and braces it against Tony's shoulder. He doesn't let go this time.

"I don't know what his stupid plan will accomplish," Bruce says. "It'll make the parts of his family that are worth a damn feel better, and it will, as far as I can tell, put a much better monarch in charge of Asgard. Maybe that's it. But he's not trying to kill us anymore, you'll notice, and there's more than two people in the world who like him now. He's not all better, but he's _better._ Sometimes that's enough, you know?"

Tony swallows and ends up making a sobbing sound. He clears his throat and says hoarsely, "I trust you."

Of course, if Loki _is_ okay, where does that leave Tony?

"What I'm saying," Bruce says softly, "is that you can deny awful things for a really long time and all they do is dig a hole in you. But look around. That kid over there _died,_ and got used and rebuilt and thrown out, and he's still here. Natasha's been through more shit than practically anyone in the building. Just because you feel like lukewarm whiskey over death right now doesn't mean you're completely screwed."

Tony considers backhanding more cups. He considers crying. Instead he says, "Uh, don't take this the wrong way, but you're probably one of the best things to come into my life in the past...ever."

It sounds horrible and too-much and unnecessary, but more than once Bruce has put Tony right in ways no one else has figured out how to do. Not Pepper, not Steve, not anyone. Tony stops just short of saying, _Please be my friend and don't hate me, Doctor Banner._

"Oh," Bruce says, taken aback. "Well, I--well. As long as I'm not making things worse."

"I'm not hitting on you," Tony says insistantly. "I'm trying to say thanks. I'm very bad at it. I think I might fall asleep now."

"Not here," Bruce suggests, not very hopefully. "Or...here if you want, I guess there's a cot."

"Cot's good," Tony agrees. He gets to his feet unsteadily and leans in right general direction.

Bruce has to hurry to catch up and pull it out for him. He'd been planning to sleep for awhile himself, actually, to make sure Bucky had company if he woke up. Oh well.

Tony tips sideways onto the cot and gets his legs mostly in the right place before he passes out.

Bruce sighs, puffing out his cheeks, and rolls Tony the rest of the way into bed. He drops one of the two blankets over him, steals the pillow, and picks the most promisingly soft-looking lab table to stretch out on.

Babysitting is never as cute or comfortable as he hopes it'll be.


	22. alcohol doesn't solve all of tony's problems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony wants to know, a hundred percent, that he wouldn't do that. But he can't say for sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: conflict about alcohol abuse/possible alcoholism, dead alcoholic dads, everyone is distressed

Tony manages to wake up disgustingly early for someone who was up as late as he was and who feels as bad as it turns out he feels. He rolls off the cot without waking Bruce up. At this, Tony remembers with an unpleasant jolt that he maybe _said some things_ to Bruce last night, but he can't remember what they were.

This is embarrassing, but he's had worse mornings. He just needs some water and some eggs. 

He heads to his apartment, hoping Steve is awake and gone already. He isn't, of course. He's sitting at the kitchen table with his arms crossed, watching the electric kettle heat up, looking pensive. When he hears Tony, he turns quickly and says--nothing. He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, and then he looks at Tony hard, and his expression changes. He shuts his mouth again, like all the options for words are things he'd rather not let into the open.

"So," Tony says as casually as he can, "I'm guessing I don't look like I had the best night." _You look like you're hungover, you fucking idiot,_ he tells himself.

"I'm just trying to figure out when you managed to have it," Steve says.

Tony bites his lip. "I didn't want to wake you up," he says. "I had--and believe me, this is true--I had some business to deal with."

“Avengers business?” Steve asks. 

“Yeah,” Tony says. “Avengers business.

“Didn’t think I could help?”

“It was sort of implied that this issue should be kept on the...down low.” Tony winces.

"So is your _down low_ a separate issue from getting drunk and forgetting to come home?" Steve asks.

Tony feels much sicker than when he woke up. He's doing fabulously at proving to Steve that he doesn't have a problem. "Yes, actually," he says.

"Oh, good. That was just for fun, then," Steve suggests. He's feeling cold, right in his gut, and he knows why, and it knows it could be ugly, and he's not sure he wants to stop it.

Tony balls his hands into fists and reminds himself not to yell. "It was a bad night," he says. "That's it. I just wanted a drink and some space. That's not a crime."

"Yeah? Problem solved?" Steve asks, tight-jawed. The kettle starts boiling. He gets up to unplug it.

Tony edges into the room and perches on the arm of the couch, wishing he had something to fiddle with. Mostly he wants food and a shower, though.

"Problem--Damn it, I forgot to send Loki his stuff."

Steve is making coffee in the French press, which is something new to him that he usually likes a lot more than he likes it right now. He doesn't answer Tony.

"There was a situation," Tony snaps, frustrated. "It was--upsetting. So I had a drink. Is that _okay_ with you?"

Steve is quiet for a few seconds more. Then he takes his hand off the plunger of the coffee pot and says. "Yeah. Sure it is, Tony. It's great. It's great to wake up with you gone. It's great that I can go to bed with you at night knowing there's a chance you'll show up ten hours later looking like you got in a fight with a bottle of schnapps. I feel a-okay with that."

"What the hell?" Tony says. His voice comes out louder than he means it to, which makes his head throb. "Don't you think you're overreacting? So I slept somewhere else for one night. I didn't want to wake you up!"

"While you got drunk!" Steve shouts back. "In the middle of the night! Because you're under stress and that's the one thing you can think of to fix it!"

"So what?" Tony says automatically. He winces. It's the wrong thing to say.

Steve stands very straight and very still. He clenches his jaw, and then says stiffly, "If it was just once or twice, I wouldn't make a fuss."

Tony swallows. This is worse than Pepper or Rhodey lecturing him. "I can handle myself," he says. He realizes he sounds like something out of probably every pamphlet about the warning signs of alcoholism.

"Don't give me that crap," Steve says. "You let me wake up alone so you could drink instead of talk."

"I guess this is when you find out I'm kind of a bad person," Tony says shortly, hopping off the arm of the couch.

Steve ducks his head. He pushes the plunger down on the coffee pot, more deliberately than necessary. "Is it going to be like this now?" he asks.

Tony reminds himself that Steve has been different from everyone else so far. Tony doesn't have to make the same dumb mistakes that have ruined everything, including friendships, about a thousand times.

"No," he says, rubbing his temples. "Uh, no. It isn't. I'm just hungover and defensive. Just--can we have that out there?"

"I mean," Steve says quietly, not looking up, "now that everything is stirred up, are you going to drink more than before and not be where you're supposed to be and tell me all about how you're a grown up and you get to make your own choices and it's not my business if you don't want to be with me every damn second, anyway?"

Tony flinches. "Probably," he says. He doesn't really know another way to do this.

Steve bites his lip and breathes for a few seconds. Then he takes his hand off the coffee pot and leaves. Not the kitchen. The apartment. He ignores the elevator and heads straight for the stairs.

"Shit," Tony says under his breath. "Shit, shit, SHIT!" He grabs the coffee pot and stops just short of throwing it. Instead, he sets it down very carefully on the counter, takes a deep breath, and goes after Steve.

Steve plans to go all the way outside, probably to the park, just somewhere that's away, where he can walk, but he doesn't get that far. He goes down four flights of stairs, tripping over his heartbeat, and then he reaches a landing and he can't keep going. He sits heavily and knits his hands together and hides his eyes in them, and he doesn't even bother to try not crying, because, hell, he's been telling himself he can do this since the beginning, and maybe he can't.

Tony catches up with Steve and just freezes, a few stairs above him. "Oh, God," he says. "Steve? Hey. Listen, I fucked up."

Steve heard him coming, but he couldn't look up and didn't really want to. When Tony speaks, it just makes him angrier and more miserable. He pulls his hands away from his face and gulps in a breath and says, jagged, "I'm telling you right now. If you're not going to try to fix this, the alcohol thing, I mean actually try, then that's it. I can't live with a self-righteous alcoholic, Tony. I won't do it."

Tony presses himself against the wall of the stairwell. He didn't realize it had gotten that bad that fast. "Steve, wait," he says, horrified. "I didn't--I'll fix it. I'm going to fix it. Jesus, what--I'm sorry." He runs his hand through his hair distractedly.

"I mean it," Steve says. "I mean it, Tony. You can't just say that and expect it to be enough. You can't try to charm me like every board member and reporter and pretty rich girl you meet. I can't not know if you'll pick being drunk over me. You just told me you would do that, okay? You just told me that."

Tony wants to know, a hundred percent, that he wouldn't do that. But he can't say for sure. He needs to make it so he can say for sure.

He takes a deep breath and descends to Steve’s landing, and makes himself look Steve in the eye. "I have a problem," he says. "I know that. And it's not okay, and it's my fault, but I swear, I'm going to make it so you never have a reason to doubt me again."

Steve isn't sure he even half believes him. He's heard this much before without it meaning anything. "Yeah," he says. "I'm sure if you mean it enough it'll damn well fix itself."

"Shit," Tony says again. "Look, there's literally no way for me to make this right without _time,_ okay? You won't believe me till I prove it. Just give me time."

"God _damn_ it," Steve says, burying his face in his hands. "I'm sorry. This is the one damn thing I said I'd never do to myself."

"I didn't know," Tony says uselessly. "I--If I can ask--" He breaks off and gestures. He wonders if it would have made a difference if Steve had told him this was _the line not to cross_ from the start.

"You and Loki don't have the monopoly on--fathers," Steve says, not looking up.

" _Shit,"_ Tony says, furious with himself. "Jesus, I'm sorry. I don't want to be anyone's--bad day. I really don't. I _swear_ I am going to fix this."

"It's not just that," Steve says thickly. "I want you to be okay."

"I know," Tony says miserably. He tries not to think too hard about what it says about him that it took _Steve_ being hurt to make him promise and mean it.

"I want to wake up with you," Steve says, very quiet, because he knows a lot of reasons why the answer might be, _too bad, you can't._

"I promise," Tony says, "I _promise_ I'll be there next time you wake up. And the time after that. Every time, and if I don't, I'll have a damn good excuse that isn't alcohol. I don't know if I can quit cold turkey, but if you want, I can try."

Steve's shoulders shake. "Thank you," he says.

Tony tries not to think too hard about what he's just said. Because it's big. Instead, he puts his hand on Steve's shoulder and says, "We're worth it." He means, _You're worth it,_ but he can work on that.

Steve twists around to look at him, red-eyed. "I need to," he starts. "I need you to--I need to know you're really here," he finishes awkwardly.

"Yeah," Tony says, "Yeah, I--hey." He wraps his arms around Steve and squeezes. " _Hey._ I'm here."

Steve hugs him back, burying his face in Tony's neck. "I don't wanna see him," he whispers, "when I'm looking at you. You're better than that. I felt safer when he died."

Tony grips Steve as hard as he can. "I don't ever, ever want to scare you, Steve. I know it's too late for that, but I'm going to stop. I didn't know it was--Sorry, I'm an idiot. I've got you. And hey, I can't take care of you when I'm drunk. So I'd better just..."

Steve bunches up the sleeves of Tony's pajama shirt in his fists. "I believe you more than I ever believed my dad," he says. "So I guess that's something."

Tony is terrified, because he really has no room to fuck this up. He isn't sure he _can_ quit drinking ( _completely_ quit drinking?) without some slip-ups.

"Good," he says. "I'm going to do my best, then. I can't promise to get all better overnight, but I'm going to try. And if I mess up, I have people who can field it. Okay?"

"I'm sorry," Steve says. "I told you I knew and I made it sound like--I made it sound like it didn't matter. I was scared you'd...and I thought maybe I could just not..."

"I get it," Tony says. "I should have paid more attention. And hey, you told me now." He kisses Steve's cheek.

"I'm not why it _matters,"_ Steve says, grabbing at Tony's hair and giving it a little tug. "It matters because you matter."

"Oh," Tony says. "Yeah. That. I'll--try to remember." He sighs and blinks at Steve. "Sorry. I'm really not...doing too well."

Steve hugs him tightly. "Hey, buddy," he says. "I know that. But you will be. You'll _be okay."_

"We'll both be okay," Tony says, muffled. Then he pulls away. "Shit, I really do need to get some stuff for Loki."

"Oh?" Steve asks. "He's not what got you out of bed and ruined your night, is he?"

"Ha," Tony says. "Well. Yes."

Steve glowers. "Whatever anyone says, I really don't like that man."

Tony laughs. "I--well, I think I do. He's just kind of hard to be around." He pauses and says carefully, "Hey, did you know he can, uh, turn into a woman?"

Steve looks a little startled. "No one said. But he, er, he's--had children before, hasn't he? After a fashion? So I suppose that...follows."

"Yup," Tony says. "I guess I hadn't thought of that. I figured, you know, a god, whatever. But he can. Just like that. Magic." He shrugs. "Anyway."

"Tony," Steve says, and puts a hand in Tony's hair. "He's familiar in all the worst ways, isn't he? And you like him, you say!"

Tony almost melts with relief, because okay, Steve gets it. All the important stuff, anyway. He shuts his eyes. "Yeah," he says. "Because none of that is his fault. I get being crazy. I get being kind of a dick. I don't trust him, but I like him." He thinks about Loki's face when Tony told him he had to lie down. "And I think he needs people looking out for him," he adds, against his better judgement.

"Well, he's sure got that now," Steve says. He kisses Tony's forehead. "I don't know how you can look down on yourself, Tony Stark. You get on your feet over and over. You see everybody like they might be good, whether you like them or not."

Tony shivers. "Wow," he says. "How could I ever not promise to change for you?"

Steve gives him a contemplative look, and then kisses his cheek. "You," he says, "are incredible. It's just what you do when you doubt it that I don't like."

"God," Tony says, "you and Bruce. Best people. I think I owe him a few apologies. He took care of me last night."

"Now Bruce, I like," Steve says. "I don't think he likes me, but I like him. He's punctual. And he pays attention."

Tony leans. "I don't know," he says, "I think maybe he likes most of the team. As it turns out. Okay, listen, I have to go grab some antibiotics and makeup, but then I promise I'll clean up and eat something, okay?"

Steve's eyebrows shoot up. "I swear on my honor I will not ask," he says. "Okay. Go take care of that. Then come back and take care of yourself."

Tony nods, salutes, and goes to collect the necessary items.


	23. tony and loki work through one thing at a time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is reminded suddenly and violently that there are ways in which he doesn't mind being like Loki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: injury, post-assault

Loki has not slept well. Truthfully, he has barely slept at all; his leg hurts tremendously, and it has also--been some time since he hasn't had Victor in bed beside him. After a few restless hours, he drags himself into the bathroom and puts himself in the bath. He has to perch his hurt leg on the edge of the tub at an odd angle to accommodate the wound, but the water is nice and he feels better clean. He mostly avoids thinking. He only begins to worry about standing up as he lets the water out and reaches for the towel that he's set on the floor. Looking at the floor makes him think of it, though, and he eyes his terrain suspiciously.

"Damn," he says. Then he hoists himself up and practically throws himself out of the tub. After a few seconds spent braced against the wall, breathing hard, he snatches up the towel and starts his limping way back to the bedroom. Of course this is when the house informs him that someone is _here._

"Oh, fine!" he tells it, still unnerved, and then remembers he isn't fully dressed. If he didn't still feel sick with tiredness and pain, perhaps he would have remembered earlier. He limps quickly into the bedroom.

When Loki doesn't answer the door for a little too long, Tony just pushes it open.

"Hey, Loki?" he calls, stepping inside. "You here? I have your stuff."

Loki pokes his head and a bare shoulder around the bedroom door. "Oh," he says. "That's good. Thank you. Could you wait a moment?"

Tony looks at Loki's throat and winces. In the light of day, it looks worse.

"Whoa," Tony says. "Uh, I mean, sorry. And absolutely!" He tosses the package he's carrying back and forth between his hands, feeling slightly ill from moving too much.

Loki reappears, wearing a long, fitted shirt with a high collar under his surcoat. It hides the bruises. His hair is still wet. He looks fresh, but not well. When he approaches Tony, he is obviously trying to show easy grace, but there's a catch in his step, and he is too pale.

"Don't look so anxious, Stark," he says. "Tell me about what you've brought."

"Oof," Tony says. Loki looks even taller than usual, although much sicker. "Hey, I'm sorry it took me so long. I got--I don't have an excuse. I've got you two kinds of medicine, one for the pain and one for any horrible infection an arrow might result in. Also, makeup." He brandishes the package.

Loki is visibly relieved at the mention of painkillers, but he says only, "That's most considerate. Perhaps you'd better show me which is which so I don't go wrong."

Tony sometimes forgets that Thor and Loki don't know really basic things. "Sure, of course," he says, opening the bag to point them out. "Painkillers are here, antibiotics are here. They come with instructions. The makeup doesn't, but that's probably okay."

Loki takes the things from him. "Thank you," he says. "Did you--? I'd like to start work. I don't require much sleep."

"Neither do I," Tony says, which is true some of the time. "We might as well work on this thing. But you should probably be sitting down when you do it. And I might need--I promised Steve I'd have something to eat and a shower."

Loki makes a face, for half a second, and says, "That is wise. I will wait here, if you do not trust me in your workshop alone."

"I don't, really," Tony says. "No offense. Meet there in half an hour?"

Loki nods his head _yes._ Tony makes himself smile (although this whole thing is mostly just worrying), and leaves.

Loki relaxes when the door shuts and stays shut. He drops himself into a chair. It's more comfortable than it looks. He dumps the contents of Stark's bag out on his lap, and works out which thing to take for which problem. Assuming none of it is poison to Asgardian half-breeds, of course.

He wishes, a little, that he weren't too proud to also ask for breakfast.

~

Tony arrives twenty-nine minutes later, only on time because he doesn't want Loki in his lab without him. He's clean and somewhat fed, mostly because he promised. He brings along a muffin for Loki, too.

Loki is waiting when Tony arrives, unobtrusively parked outside the door. "You are cleaner," he remarks. He looks a little less horribly pale than he did before Tony's breakfast.

"I am," Tony agrees. "Here, muffin. Blueberry. In case you need food more than you need sleep."

He heads into the lab and pulls up the net schematics after handing the muffin off.

Loki stares at the thing in his hand, surprised by it, and follows Tony in. He walks gingerly through the floating models, which don't seem terribly perturbed that he's doing so, and bites the muffin contemplatively.

"Is the first part of your work always dull?" he asks, and then waves the hand without the muffin in it before Tony can get too offended. "I mean to say I hope you're accustomed to it."

Tony laughs. "I'm not offended. A lot of people think it's boring, I guess. It's not boring to me. And God, how could it be boring this time? We're doing _magic._ Well, you're doing magic."

"Building with magic is like building with anything else," Loki says, with an odd little smile. "You frequently sit around and think a lot first. And it only really looks good at the end."

Tony is reminded suddenly and violently that there are ways in which he doesn't mind being like Loki.

"I know," he says, playing with the model. "Hey, so when's your boyfriend coming over?"

"I don't know," Loki says smoothly. "The least convenient time, I'm sure. We had better make something look as though it's happened, mustn't we, or he'll realize I've lied and you've helped. You're by far the more attractive target, you know."

"Oh good," Tony says unhappily. "Well, I don't know, what's some trouble you can get into that won't send him roaring to your defense with, with robots and things? It's cute, but it's not helpful."

"Too true," Loki murmurs, easing his way over to the mountain of holly. "Good thing I'm not Balder," he mutters, eyeing it. Then he turns back to Tony. "You can help, if you like!"

"I like helping," Tony says evenly, not sure he does. "Just show me what to do."

"The first step is very simple," Loki says engagingly. He turns and plucks a sharp-edged leaf from its stem, on the edge of the holly mountain. "See?" he says. "Now we need only pluck the rest."

Tony's eyebrows go up. "What, _seriously?_ You can fucking change genders and you can't pluck horrible, spiked leaves by magic?"

Loki says obviously, "If I use magic to take it apart it will be contaminated with the wrong ideas and it won't stay together at all. That would be a terrible net, don't you see? I didn't bring it here whole just to _ruin_ it."

Tony grits his teeth. Engineers shouldn't have to encounter these kinds of problems.

" _I_ might contaminate it with the wrong ideas," he says under his breath, plucking a leaf. This is the most vicious, prickly holly he’s ever seen.

"Not if you use your hands," Loki says impatiently, and then looks uncomfortable. "No one asks," he says. "About this sort of thing. Even Victor leaves me to my own--I don't know how to _teach,"_ he explains.

"Oh, God, I know," Tony says fervently. "You might not be able to, right? Because it's all in your head and everyone else is too stupid and you can't _work backwards."_

Loki smiles, the shy, disarming one that's probably more true than not. "I...haven't tried much," he says. "Magic is not--magic like _me_ is not very respectable. No one really even pretends to want to know."

"Asgardians are _assholes,"_ Tony says. "I'm sorry. I have no idea what that's like, but I promise I always want to know. I'm really interested in what you do." He doesn't even feel sick saying it.

Loki smiles again, more easily. "I apologize for the leaves," he says. "It really is--I need them for something later, but for the main ropes they won't do."

"If you say so," Tony says, plucking another. "I'm trusting you on this." He shakes his head. "Hey, promise me something? When this is over, just--look out for yourself."

Loki looks at him sharply. "You could wear gloves if you like," he says automatically. "If we had somewhere to put the leaves it would be good."

"All things I can do!" Tony grabs some welding gloves from a workbench, considering the subject dropped. "I have buckets, I have bags, whatever you need."

"Anything will do," Loki says mildly. He tugs several more leaves loose from the branches before he says, "I did warn you, did I not, that it would be boring?"

Tony grins, dragging a waste barrel over. "I'm okay with boring. God, we could use it. Long night. Long week." He pulls on the gloves and turns back to the holly.

Loki looks around and finds a chair to drag over. He seats himself and relaxes by centimeters. He says, after a long pause, "Did Rogers ever talk to the boy in the lab?"

"Bucky," Tony says automatically. "Yeah, he did. You were telling the truth, apparently. It's not really surprising that Bucky wants to go to war defending the innocent, though. It's kind of his thing."

Loki laughs, not a comfortable sound. "I'm not the innocent," he says.

"His perceptions are probably a little skewed, to be fair," Tony says easily, looking sideways at Loki. "Although in your defense, you're not _quite_ as bad as I thought at first."

"Before or after I tried to kill you?" Loki murmurs. "I can see what you might have reacted to."

Tony plucks a few more leaves. "I thought you were trouble from the first time Thor mentioned you. Then you tried to hurt or kill a bunch of my friends. I was already pretty much anti-Loki by the time you--did what you did."

"What reasonable person wouldn't be?" Loki says, and then gives a less honest smile. "I do change minds, though, don't I?"

"It's why I don't trust you," Tony says. He isn't sure if talking to Loki about _anything_ is _safe,_ but telling Loki they're not friends seems safer than most things.

Loki nods, as though that's natural. He lets the silence lie as long as Stark will be silent. Tony is bad at staying quiet for long, but all the things he wants to say to Loki are full of landmines for both of them. Instead, he says, "Hey, can I put some music on? Helps me think."

"Only if I may turn it off again," Loki says darkly.

Tony exercises enough maturity not to make a face and goes to put on Black Sabbath. Loki looks dubious, but he doesn't say or do anything vile. He does stop plucking holly leaves and eat half of his breakfast.

Tony plucks holly in silence, letting the music drown everything out. He focuses best like this, although when he's working on something of his own, he doesn't like other people there. This is good, though. The storm of his fight with Steve and Loki's bruises and Loki's bodies and Loki's past all rage outside the lab, but Tony is okay in here doing this.

He glances at Loki eating the muffin and gives him a little smile. He doesn't trust him, but he's starting to _really_ like him.

~

Plucking all the leaves off the holly takes a couple hours, and by the end Loki and Tony's hands are sore with or without gloves. When they're done, Loki says, "Do you have any of your part finished?"

Tony nods, shaking off his gloves. One of them is pretty much ruined, and they're his nicest pair. _Not_ normal holly. "Yeah, it's almost done. I just need to fill in the gaps. Here, check it out."

A polite little sound from JARVIS informs him that someone's headed for the lab. He had it installed when Pepper kept interrupting him.

Loki looks up, but he turns back to pluck a knife out of--somewhere? and handily slice a stripped branch off of the holly. The knife has maybe a six-inch blade, and Tony has no idea where it came from. Loki carries the branch over to Tony and his net-in-progress. Tony raises his eyebrows and doesn't back away, although he really wants to. 

"Huh," he says. "That's...interesting. We're about to get company, by the way."

"What's...?" Loki starts, and then switches to, "What kind of company?"

"I could--" Tony starts, but the door that's always supposed to be locked and never is opens, and Doctor Doom walks in.

"Ah," he says curtly, "I found you."

"Victor!" Loki says. "Oh, good. Did you bring a robot?"

"I did," Victor says, stepping into the room as though he owns it. Loki looks more unwell than he expected. Likely he didn't sleep, but if lack of sleep made him look like this, he'd appear ill every day. Stark, for his part, looks nearly as bad, and he looks tiny without the suit.

Loki glances around and hops up onto a stool. He tucks the knife into his belt and waves his holly branch. "Where is it, then?" he asks. "Come, Victor, don't be a disappointment."

"Mm," Victor says shortly. "This is a lot of holly. Did you pluck it on your own? Is that why you look half dead?" He produces a suitcase and begins unfolding the prototype for his robot.

"I did and I don't," Loki says. "You, on the other hand, have made yourself unpleasant with lack of sleep. Don't blame me for that."

"I don't sleep well without you," Victor sneers. No amount of posturing will make it sound like a lie, he realizes too late.

"You two really need to get a room, that's not my lab," Stark says, but he looks interested in the robot.

"Nor I without you," Loki sighs, ignoring Tony, "but since I was gardening, as Stark put it, how I would have slept is irrelevant. That's a very portable creature," he adds, gesturing to the robot.

"It has to be, doesn't it?" Stark says, actually touching Victor's robot.

"Unhand that!" Victor snaps. "You look hungover, you meddling fool."

"It _is_ his workshop," Loki points out, waving his holly branch. "Can we not agree everyone is more attractive with sleep and carry on?"

"Fine," Victor says, relinquishing his robot. "I suppose we all need to work together." He looks more closely at Loki and frowns. Loki really does look _awful._ "Have you eaten?" he asks. He still hasn't gotten to kiss Loki hello.

"Oh--I suppose. I ate half a muffin," Loki says. "Awhile ago."

Victor puts his hand on Loki's arm. "Let me get you something else. Soon." He leans in, angling his body toward Loki's, although he can't remove his mask to kiss him. Loki catches Victor's mask under the chin and pulls him down to kiss the metal under Victor's right eye. 

"You worry far too much," Loki murmurs. "Show me what your work does."

Victor smiles, and he knows Loki will be able to see it where the skin around his eye wrinkles. "Very well."

He takes the robot back from Stark and displays it. "It's largely visually impressive," he says. "Naturally, like all of my work, it has its functions." He's equipped it with some basic weaponry.

"Show me how it moves," Loki says.

Victor flicks a switch on the robot's neck. "Here. It can follow basic commands, and I can program it. It's fairly lifelike, and it can be more so. Most of my machines are." He gives Stark a look.

"Form over function, that's what you're about," Stark mutters.

"Form _is_ function, in this case," Loki says, looking the thing over critically. "At least we can hope that's all that matters."

"Exactly," Victor says. "Do you think they're impressive? You know your people best."

"Asgard favors gold over silver," Loki says. "We are on Asgard's side, remember? Only not Odin's. It moves well. They will be a fine sight." 

Victor smiles, more pleased than he expected. "Thank you. I agree. I'll certainly change the colors." 

Stark makes a noise that's almost a word. 

Loki frowns at the holly in his hand and says, "I'm sorry we haven't more to show _you_ yet. I am slowing us up with tedious first steps." 

Stark laughs quietly and Victor is immediately annoyed. Something is going on that he doesn't know about and he _hates_ that. 

"Show me what you do have, at least," he says testily. 

Loki points at the large barrel of leaves. "We have that," he says. 

"Leaves?" Victor asks. He knows he's being stubborn. 

"Holly," Stark says, waving a mangled glove. 

"Does not agree with the Asgardian constitution," Loki says quietly. "Especially not of Odin's line. But the main ropes _must_ be made of only the branches, you see, and the leaves had to be plucked one by one or it will all come apart." 

"Oh, elegant," Victor breathes.

Stark nods. "I like this Norse stuff. It's all so tidy."

Loki sneers a little. " 'Norse stuff.' As though they made us up."

Stark laughs. "Well, I hope we made some of it up." He frowns. "Although...possibly not. But I think we at least got some of the familial relationships wrong."

"So did the real ones," Victor says nastily.

"Tony," Loki says deliberately, not meeting Victor's eyes, "has begun fabricating the other half of the net, the mechanical side. I will spin the wood and we will weave the strands together. Of course it takes two of us to do what you do with science and magic, Victor, but our work will likely be better, so we live with our inadequacies."

The pieces click together when Victor sees through the joke probably intended to mock his pride. Stark and Loki are wounded in a half dozen of the same ways, and now they've gone and started trying to be friends.

Regardless of what Victor thinks of the Avengers, he wants Loki to have friends. "Perhaps someday you'll be on my level."

"Perhaps," Loki says lightly. "Anyway, the leaves are why we haven't gotten all that far. You'll have to come back, Victor, when there's something to see."

Victor doesn't want to leave Loki alone. He isn't sure Stark will look after him properly.

"Can I trust you two not to run yourselves into the ground?" he asks.

"Ha," Stark says.

Loki says, leaning back on his stool, "Victor, I sense a foolish moment of condescension. Don't put me in a temper. We have so much to do."

Victor smiles again, charmed. "You know yourself and me too well, my love." His half-joking pet names are not something he's used to using in public, and he falters. "Anyhow, I'll return when you wish me to."

"It will not be long," Loki says, and hesitates, and snatches Victor's cloak to pull him in. He's nimble enough to slip the clasp on Victor's mask. He pulls it free before Victor can object, but he keeps his arm up, a barricade between Victor's face and Tony's view.

"You were going to kiss me?" Loki reminds him.

Victor is too startled to respond for a moment. Then he leans in and kisses Loki hard, shutting his eyes and sucking at Loki's bottom lip. He can hear Stark busying himself with something else. Loki tastes like blueberries.

Loki wraps his free arm, the one with the mask, around the back of Victor's neck. His tongue sneaks past Victor's teeth, and he smirks at Victor’s reaction. When Loki pulls back, he whispers, "Soon this will be over, and then you will have me properly."

Victor exhales. "Yes," he whispers back, fierce with relief. He wants Loki to stop being public property to save and pity and argue over and start being _home_ again.

Loki kisses him softly on the cheek and then shifts his arm, sliding Victor's mask up over his face again. Victor is too grateful to say anything Stark is allowed to hear, so he just says, "I'll see you. Soon." He nods to Stark and sweeps out.


	24. tony and loki are putting it all together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I only tiptoe around you because you're fucking terrifying," he says after a second.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: discussion of past abuse/rape/abusers, injury, PTSD, Loki is always endangering himself

"Huh," Tony says, tossing wrench from hand to hand as Doom makes his exit. "You guys are pretty cute."

Loki frowns, looking less cute and, more obviously, less well. "As long as Victor thinks so, I don't care that you do," he says. "Shall we continue?"

"Let's give it another half hour and then take a break," Tony says, eyeing Loki. "That arrow wound wasn't just a scratch, you know. Besides, I have other things to do." He'd like to see Steve again and prove that he's all functional and sober.

"We'll do a test, then," Loki says impatiently. He peers closely at the branch of holly in his hand, and then twists one end. It senses what he wants, and gives. The wood releases some of its solidity, but none of its strength and poison; Loki twists it into rope, a finger's width at a time, and it prickles under his fingers. He is bleeding magic into it, encouraging the new shape into its core, telling the holly about rage and sleep and quiet pain-giving. He doesn't think he'll mention the last to Stark. He twists the offshoots into branches of rope instead, except for the smallest twigs--those he smoothes into their branches until they're indistinguishable.

"Wow," Tony whispers, watching. He can't see all of what Loki's doing, but it's still beautiful. He can almost _feel_ the magic in the room, prickly and uncomfortable. He shivers. It's beautiful, but it's frightening. Someone as angry as Loki with that much power...He doesn't want to think about it.

Loki finishes with the branch and looks up. "You have a sample? Bring me a small piece." He's sweating slightly.

Tony nods and gets Loki what he has so far. "Here. But take it easy, okay? You got shot in the leg, remember? We don't need you falling over."

"I want to know what will work _now,"_ Loki says, and takes the net abruptly from Tony's hand. After a few seconds, he goes back to the holly rope and starts to stretch it thin. It's less like stretching pasta thin, and more like the rope was that thin already, and it was just hard to see how _much_ of it there was before. When he's satisfied with that, he matches one end to a segment of the metal. He doesn't do anything other than glare at it, for a couple of minutes. He mutters something Tony can't hear, and then coaxes the rope to cling to Tony's chain like ivy, spreading itself in tendrils over a short stretch of metal. It's disconcerting and parasitic, but it will do until he can get them to feed off of one another. It will take longer to understand Stark's metal; he knows what he wants it to do, but it doesn't relax at his first few suggestions.

"Aren't you infuriating?" he murmurs to it.

"Can I help?" Tony says quietly. He's frowning as he watches Loki work. "I don't know what you're doing, exactly, but would it help if...I don't know, if you know where I'm coming from?" He shrugs. "I can explain the alloy and its properties all day, but..."

"I doubt it will hurt," Loki says, flashing a smile. "Tell me."

Tony doesn't think he wants to touch whatever Loki's done to his net, so he doesn't take it back. Instead, he says, "Well, understanding the alloy would probably help. It's something I invented--well, modified.” He calls up a model of its molecular structure; Loki narrows his eyes at it. “It's extremely light, as you can tell. And it's _mine._ It hasn’t gone into any of our commercial products. So, that's probably important?" Magic seems to work in symbols, anyway. He checks and goes on. "The idea was all about containing energy. Look at it as the opposite of an explosion." _The opposite of what I used to do,_ he doesn't say as it occurs to him. A tiny black hole, for the side of good.

"Oh," Loki says, annoyed. "I'm pushing the wrong way." He snaps off the piece of net where the holly is wrapped around the metal and throws it aside. He takes up another end and does-- _something_ to it. It wraps itself around the holly rope like a skin. It looks smooth, but it's stippled and sharp to the touch. It pierces the skin of Loki's palm as he tests it, and he winces. "Very good I'm not Balder," he murmurs. He frowns, and then holds it up for Stark, from an unfinished corner. "This is not the most attractive thing I've ever helped to build," he says. "It will be prettier when we're done, I think. Stark, touch the finished part. Just a tap, if you will."

Tony makes himself take a breath and reminds himself he needs to trust Loki a _little._ He reaches out and puts his hand on it, making himself touch it for a second longer than he'd like. He pulls his hand back, feeling suddenly ill. The feeling ebbs, although not completely.

"Huh," he says. "That's--something. What is it, exactly? What did I feel?"

"What you felt is _good,"_ Loki says, pleased. "A good sign. It'll be much more effective when the leaves come into it; and I told you, Odin's line is not fond of holly. Your metal is a magnet. The holly saps and holds power like Odin's, you see, and it’s endlessly hungry; but your metal will draw it and conduct it better and faster and he will not know how to fight it, because he does not know it. Especially if Thor charges it first, so it seems like another sort of weapon."

That is far more about a magical project than normally anyone would care to hear.

"Jesus," Tony breathes. He clears his throat. "You are really, really good at neat, attractive magic. That's the most elegant thing I've heard in a while."

Loki colors. "I had a lot of time, growing up."

"Amen," Tony agrees. He gives Loki a real smile, although he's not any more comfortable in this room with Loki than he was an hour ago. He doesn't know how to explain feeling so calm and so anxious at the same time.

Loki says, "Do you wish for your rest, Stark? We ought to work together for the remainder of it, and it will hold better if we work in time and do each step all at once. It will take a number of hours."

Tony is about to say he could do this all day, but then he remembers that he shouldn't and Loki probably _can't._ "Yeah," he says, "we should take a break, I think. You need to put your leg up."

Loki scowls. "I appreciate your doctoring, but I do not need your babying," he says.

"Easy," Tony says, holding up his hands. "I can pretend it's because I have important adult business to do."

"How sweet," Loki snaps. He draws back a little. "The only reason this must go slowly at all is that, to everyone's great surprise, I _am_ of Odin's line. The plant is difficult to work with. But I have been through worse and worked with worse and I do not need your pretenses or your pity. Being the object of your self-recognition is bad enough."

"How the hell do you think I feel?" Tony snaps. "I'm in the same boat as you, okay? I'm not enjoying feeling like shit and being tip-toed around. So you might as well stop whining when I try to make you take it easy on yourself."

"I don't tiptoe around you, Stark," Loki says flatly. Anything else he says will be too much like arguing with Thor.

Tony pauses. "I only tiptoe around you because you're fucking terrifying," he says after a second.

Loki doesn't know whether to be pleased or to burst into tears. "That your camaraderie is a bluff is only a little reassuring," he says tiredly, in lieu of either. "I'm not going to hurt you, Stark. In fact the only person I choose to hurt is my brother Balder, and when I have done that, I will be happy to neither see nor trouble you again for as long as you like."

That's actually...kind of upsetting, and Tony's had a long enough morning that he feels like he can say so. "Actually," he says, "it wouldn't be the end of the world if you felt like coming to visit Thor once in awhile. You know, after this is over."

Here is he again, not talking about his feelings in a big enough way, but when he does that, he's usually drunk. He remembers a little more about last night and Bruce, and he winces.

Loki gives him a look that's complicated and a little irritating, if only because part of it looks _disappointed._ "Is it worse that you like me or can't bear to say so?" he wonders aloud.

Tony laughs, but not like it's funny. "When I tell people I like them, they usually hit me in the face or shake their heads at me," he says. "You may be familiar with the feeling."

"No," Loki says. "How could I be? I never tell anyone I like them."

The problems here are that Stark is small and familiar, and that Loki's hands hurt from weaving the holly, and his leg hurts from his being a fool, and he feels sick with the unstoppable plans that will put him within Balder's reach again. His plans. They are always his plans, except when they're not, and there's never any way out in either case.

" _Listen,"_ Tony says forcefully. "Do you want--?" But no, he still can't touch Loki. "Do you want some lunch?" he finishes. "Eat some damn lunch, and then we can think about working some more."

"We'll have to," Loki says, looking elsewhere. "We have a deadline: Odin finding out."

Tony nods. He can work under pressure. Brilliantly, even. "That's fine. I can finish my part today if you promise to sit down for twenty minutes."

"A deal," Loki says dryly, looking down pointedly at himself, sitting on a stool.

"What's your problem?" Tony demands. "No, really, what happened to you? And don't tell me it was ALF."

"Don't worry. It wasn't an _unnecessary risk,"_ Loki says unpleasantly.

"Yeah?" Tony says, not backing down. He feels like it's probably pretty easy to back down in the face of Loki's...face. "Explain necessary."

"I wanted his guard down," Loki snarls. "I had to look vulnerable, he had to forget I can hurt him."

There's nothing in that sentence that's good. "Who?" Tony asks, trying not to sound horrified.

"Who do you think?" Loki shoots back. "Balder, of course. I needed to know he'd let me kill him. I needed to know I could, could kill him."

"Idiot," Tony says before he even has a chance to think. "I don't mean for doing it." He chews his knuckle and looks at Loki. "Not that getting shot was smart. But you should've--Look, you could've told me. But you probably didn't know that."

Loki frowns, perplexed. "Why would I tell you? Someone might have stopped me."

"You should have told me so you wouldn't have to get _choked and shot by your fucking rapist_ and deal with it alone," Tony snaps, slamming his hand against the back of a chair and sending it rolling across the floor.

Loki freezes and stares at him, wide-eyed. He's looked injured in front of Tony more than he's looked otherwise, but he's never looked frightened before. "What should I have done instead?" he asks. He forgets to sneer.

Tony wants to say he's probably not the best person to ask, but instead he says, "If you'd told me before you went, we could have made a plan together. Some outside input might have helped. And if you'd told me after, I could've--doesn't it help, just saying how damn _scared_ you were?" He gives a little shrug. "It helps me."

Loki doesn't answer immediately. "I don't know," he says finally. "No one's asked me that, so I haven't--said."

"You can say," Tony says. "It's just me. I won't treat you like a, a breakable little pet or a project or anything else. You're a terrifying god who's--well, you tell me. _Aren't_ you scared?"

Loki purses his lips and says, "Yes."

"Yeah," Tony says. His heart is racing, but he thinks it's okay. This feels okay. "Because it doesn't matter who or what you are, there are still people who are bigger, and the second they show up with that--that bow and arrow in their hands and that look on their faces, you've got _nothing."_

Loki shudders. "I thought I'd have something," he explains. "I thought he'd pretend it had never happened. But he didn't; he is disgusted with himself only because it was me he touched." He takes a deep breath, and checks to see if Stark is running off yet. "He's rewritten our whole lives not to say that he didn't do it, but that I deserved it. I--couldn't get my claws in."

"Shit," Tony says. "I hate it when plans go south because the other person is _actually evil._ Look, we'll make this work. We'll find a way for you to get close enough to kill him." He checks to see if he feels at all bad about saying that. Nope.

"Victor can't know," Loki says, feeling repetitious.

"I'm not stupid," Tony says, smiling grimly. "But even if he can't, I don't want you doing this alone. So, you know. I'm here."

Loki hesitates. "You mentioned food," he says. "Perhaps we could...and your medicine does not seem to immediately poison me, at least. Perhaps more of that." He frowns. "I do not think the holly is helping. It would be such a convenience if I were truly adop--Stark," he says, suddenly switching tack, "is it true your Hawkeye can hit anything?"

"Huh!" Tony says. He always kind of forgets that Clint has...skills. "Yeah," he says. "He's probably the world's best, anyway. What do you need?"

Loki says, "I need him to shoot my brother with a holly-wood arrow encased in ice. And not shoot me, if possible. It likely wouldn't kill me, but it would be very unpleasant."

Tony nods slowly. He can't see the entire plan, but he understands the shape, now. "I think he can do that. And you'll be...where?"

"Closer than that," Loki says, eyes glinting dangerously. "I'll be _fine,_ Stark, if Hawkeye does his job. But the ice will melt and Balder will die, if I am not there to--make it stick. He cannot die, Stark. We need his death as a gift for the Jotuns." He smiles unpleasantly.

Tony's stomach flips. He hadn’t realized how many of the details of this part of the plan Loki had left out. _That's_ elegant. And incredibly nasty. "You're a genius," he says, sounding a little stunned. "I mean, a genius about to do a really stupid, dangerous, upsetting thing to yourself, but still."

"It will work," Loki says, sitting back, and wincing without apparently knowing he's done so. "And once it's worked, what will I have to be upset about?"

"Someday I'll teach you about PTSD," Tony says breezily. "For now, lunch."

Loki stands up, and spends a few seconds finding his feet. "Yes," he says. "Show me where there is food, and I will practice not terrifying another Avenger or two. I suppose you should show Rogers that I have not transformed into a beast and ripped you apart for my breakfast."

Tony laughs, genuinely charmed. "Let's show Steve that _neither_ of us is a beast. C'mon." He still doesn't touch Loki, but he smiles at him and leads him out of the room.


	25. steve gets a half-welcome visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's not sure when Tony became such a huge fan of Loki's, or when Loki started acting something like a person.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Loki and Tony don't know how to talk about Loki's gender

Tony takes Loki (albeit slowly) to Steve's wing of the Tower. He rings the bell (it's good to be polite) and bounces on the balls of his feet while they wait. He's feeling reasonably positive about this whole Loki situation now, anyway. 

"Steve'll have food," he explains, which, okay, Loki probably has figured out by now.

"I'm sure he'll be happy to give you some of it," Loki replies, leaning to his right. Steve opens the door.

"Tony," he says. He glances back at Loki and frowns a little. Loki looks like a buffer. Or revenge. Steve wonders how anxious Tony’s been left by their fight. 

"Hi!" Tony says brightly. Seeing Steve face-to-face makes him remember how _awful_ this morning was, but he tries not to show it. "Hey," he says, "we've been working kind of a lot on the project. Any chance we can get lunch and hang out?"

Steve looks back at Loki. "Do you _do_ ‘hanging out’?" he asks.

"Of course," says Loki. "Where do you think I get all the material for my cruel rumors and malicious plotting?"

"If only that were a joke," Tony says, stepping past Steve and into the apartment. He feels pretty well entitled to make himself at home here. "Loki and I have been hanging out all morning," he informs Steve.

"Nobody even died," Loki adds, shifting forward to Steve's doorstep and giving him a challenging, sardonic look.

Steve frowns more deeply. "Come in, then, I guess," he says. He is going to _talk to Tony_ about this later.

Loki sidles in, hiding his limp as well as he can, but it isn’t very well.

Tony narrows his eyes at Loki. "Huh. Gonna have to do something about that. Hey, Steve, got any painkillers? We could both use some." Pretty soon being forcefully cheerful is going to run through its effectiveness.

"Sure," he says, but he looks suspiciously at Loki.

"Working with holly," Loki says, holding up his hands. They're pink and a little stiff. "Not ideal."

"And working with Doom, briefly," Tony says. "Which could require painkillers. For some people. It's going really well, though." He gives Loki a little smile. "Amazingly, resembling each other isn't a death sentence."

Steve catches the way Loki's expression eases for a moment before it shifts back to smug and blatantly evasive.

"Well, good," Steve says. "I do have food, as it happens. I felt like comfort food. I'm making soup. I can do you grilled cheese if you want, too."

Tony beams. "That's my boy," he says. "Or, uh, I could make the sandwiches. In return for giving you a hard time." He holds up his sore hands and tries to look helpful.

Steve smiles. "As you will," he says. "You like sitting on your ass while other people work?" he asks Loki.

Loki looks sour.

"Just asking," Steve says. "In case you wanted something to do."

"And just like that, we're all the best of friends," Tony mutters, digging bread out of the cupboard. "Hey, think Clint wants a really difficult, potentially dangerous job?" Steve’s fridge is not tidy. It takes awhile to find the cheese.

"Of course," Steve says, taking a seat at the kitchen table. Loki does the same, practically unnoticeable. "He gets bored worse than Bucky, and fewer people take him seriously."

"Ha," Tony agrees. "Yeah, okay. I'll let him know, then." He casts a glance over his shoulder to see the two of them sitting together. They seem...unlikely. Both of them.

"Oh!" says Steve, jumping up. "Painkillers! I forgot. Right back." He hustles out of the room.

Loki says casually, "Do you think he thinks I'm not a beast yet?"

"You're just very different men," Tony says solemnly. Then he frowns. "Men. Is that...wrong?"

"People keep asking," Loki says. It’s incongruous, more like a mumble than a mutter. "I don't know. No one told me what to call it."

"Well," Tony says, turning back to the sandwiches in case Loki would rather not be scrutinized, "I think we all keep forgetting that Asgard isn't New York. You don't have to call it anything if you don't want, y'know."

"I don't know," Loki says again. "But I--" He considers the possible consequences, and does it anyway.

"This isn't what you'd rush to call a man, is it?" she asks.

Tony spins around. " _God,"_ he says, forgetting for a second to be wildly jealous. Loki is still Loki, completely and unarguably. She's just a woman. 

Loki pushes her hair back self-consciously. "I can go back, if it troubles you," she says. "I told you, Stark, I don't want to do any harm now."

Steve stops dead in the kitchen doorway with a bottle of Tylenol in his hand. "Damn," he says. He looks at Tony to see if this is okay.

"It's fine," Tony says, a little too fast. He makes himself slow down. "No, I mean it. It's a little hard to be jealous of something you didn't ask for and that's done nothing but make your life harder."

Loki accepts this with a nod of her head. "I rarely hid it in Asgard," she says contemplatively, "because they hated me for it. You have more reason to be angry and less will to do so. I would at least consider hiding it from you."

Steve works open the lid of the pill bottle and wonders what, exactly, Loki is playing at.

"Thanks for that," Tony says. "I--honestly, I think it's amazing. I wish I could do it. It's-- _all_ of your magic is gorgeous."

"Stop," Loki says, frowning. "You keep talking like this."

Steve's head swivels between the two of them. He's not sure when Tony became such a huge fan of Loki's, or when Loki started acting something like a person.

"Not okay?" Tony asks. He's not sure why, but he's willing to believe it. "I can stop. Just thought you might like to know, since you come from a horrible, magic-hating culture."

“They don’t hate magic,” Loki says. “They just hate witches.”

“That amounts to the same thing for you, doesn’t it?” Tony argues.

“I suppose,” Loki says. 

"I trust you not as far as I can throw you," Steve puts in. He sets two Tylenol on the table next to Loki. "And even I think it's pretty darn neat."

"Oh," Loki says. She sits very still, her hand clenched around her upper arm. "Well, it's useful, anyway, when it's not being used against you."

"It's great," Tony agrees. "I love when it’s not used against me." Important to remind Loki that he hasn't forgotten, that he's not getting stupid.

"I didn't mean _you,"_ she says coolly.

"You should have," Steve retorts.

"Very well," Loki says contritely. "I apologize for sometimes trying to kill people."

Steve seems to grow larger with dislike. Tony rolls his eyes and presents them with grilled cheese sandwiches. Not very grilled, but standing and poking at them is making him anxious. 

"That'll do for now,” he says. “As long as you don't do it again, which you're clearly not going to do right now, we're all good. And nobody's even too traumatized to enjoy themselves." That last part might be wishful thinking.

"You were much smaller at the time," Loki says, looking put out. "And I wasn't thinking--well."

"No arguments there," says Steve. "Thank you," he tells Tony. What he really wants to say is, _I_ knew _this was revenge!_

"And now we eat," Tony announces. He knows things aren't completely smoothed over, but he's hungry, and he thinks this is as far as they will get for now.

Steve gets up to bring them soup, and as an afterthought, gets up again for milk.

"For swallowing pills," he explains. "And because this meal is already kids’ food."

"Hardly a child," Loki mutters.

"Yeah, well," Steve says. "At least in theory, you're currently growing up." Loki sneers slightly and picks up her sandwich to bite it, which is such an odd-looking combination of things that Steve immediately wishes he could take back any thought he's had about Loki seeming human at all.

Tony grins a little desperately at Steve and bites his own sandwich. "This is good," he says, swallowing. "Good call. Comfort food. We should talk to Clint."

"We can talk to Clint after lunch," Steve says. "No need to rush." He feels like he's nagging, but Loki grates on his nerves, all of his nerves. And he needed time, today. Tony shouldn’t have brought Loki here when they needed to talk in private. There's nothing to do about any of that, though, so he just coughs awkwardly at the end of his words.

"I could take my meal in a nice quiet corner, Rogers," Loki suggests with a curl of her lip. "If it would make you more comfortable."

Tony realizes with sudden total clarity that he's been juggling too many ideas and something has gotten lost in the process. This is not how he wanted things to go at all.

"Or we could both go," he says.

Loki looks at him sharply. "No, I will," she says. "I'm only in a temper. Please stay and eat." She sets soup bowl on sandwich plate, tosses back Steve's medicinal offering, and gulps down the milk in one go. "There!" she says, setting the glass down and scooping the other dishes up. "I'll be at your workshop in twenty minutes, Stark. Don't get distracted." Then she swoops off toward the door.

Tony is startled "I, okay," he manages as the door shuts. "Thanks." He turns to Steve. "Sorry, that was--awkward. It was awkward."

"Yeah," Steve says, frowning. "So was that a shield?"

"No!" Tony says, so defensively that he surprises himself by realizing Steve is at least partly right. "I mean, kind of. Look, mostly I wanted you to get to know each other. I've been getting to know--her."

"I noticed," Steve says, gruff because he doesn't know what to think about it.

"I like him," Tony says carefully. "I mean, I still think he's morally gray at _best,_ but his magic is really fascinating when he's not trying to kill someone. And I--I don't know, I feel good when we work together." It sounds stupid out loud.

Steve swallows. "Good," he says. "That's good. Although I'm not sure I'm happy to hear that this is the person you can relate to."

"I don't relate to all the _murder attempts,"_ Tony says lightly, thinking of the times he was the craziest and the years spent building warheads.

Steve laughs. "Good," he says again, more cheerfully, and then he sighs. "I'm going to sound like a dad, but I'm just worried that he's a--bad crowd. I'm sorry for what he's been through, but he's dangerous and good at taking advantage of people's weak points. And yours are...probably familiar to him, too."

"Yeah," Tony says, "but come on, Steve, pay attention. The only time he took advantage was before he knew he _could._ And now that he's got ammo, he's not using it. He might not be a saint, but he's not a total jackass."

"Why not?" Steve says, and shakes his head. "I mean why do you think he's not...conning us? Are you sure he's not conning us?"

"Because he trusted me," Tony says fiercely. "With some pretty intense stuff. He woke me up and brought me down to my lab to deal with his secrets because he didn't have anyone else to go to. Does that tell you anything?"

"I'm not trying to be mean," Steve says tiredly. "And the last thing I want to do is fight with you, okay? I just...I don't like him. And I'm worried about you. He made you drink, remember? I want to know why I don't have anything _to_ worry about."

Tony bites his lip. He doesn't want to fight, either. He doesn't want to talk, because all he has to say is, _It feels okay._ "Can't you trust me?" he asks. "I'm a grown man, Steve. I know Loki's dangerous. But not to us. Not right now." He wishes he could explain the look in Loki's eyes when Tony told him he had to lie down.

Steve sighs. "Okay. That's--that's fair. I'll believe that. Do I have to like him?"

"No, but you could try being polite," Tony says. "You know, as much as anyone."

Steve grimaces. "Sorry," he says. "It's--I know you and Bucky don't need me crowding you. It's just, he hurt you both, and you're the _more_ of more or less everything I care about. It's hard not to be a little snappish."

Tony sighs and reaches over to squeeze Steve's hand. "Hey," he says. "You're doing it for all the right reasons. You just have to trust us to pick our own friends." _Friends?_ he asks himself. _Is that what we are?_

Steve grins apologetically. "Such a cute little thing you picked, too."

"Hey," Tony says, smiling, "I'm not Thor. I don't think Loki's a kitten. I know what he could--and probably would--do to us if he went a little nuts."

"Well, good thing he's never done that," Steve says, pinching his eyebrows together.

"I used to build weapons of mass destruction because I was miserable and unmedicated," Tony snaps.

Steve is quiet. "I'm sorry," he says finally. "You're right. No, I mean it. You're right. I'll--be less hard on him. If you tell me he needs backup and you tell me he's okay, I'll trust you. I'll still have my eye on him, mind, but I'll trust you."

Tony is momentarily shocked into silence. He's not used to people listening when he shouts at them.

Then he says, "Okay. Deal." He smiles. "You, Steve Rogers, are a damn good man."

Steve says, "I'm--I try." He shrugs. "I wouldn't be so rude today, I just--this morning?"

"Sorry," Tony says, fast. "No, I--I'm sorry for bringing Loki. I should have just come myself. I--I'm going to have some milk."

Steve slumps down against the table with his chin on his arms. "I don't like fighting with you at all," he says. "I feel like a giant nag."

"You don't sound like one," Tony says gently. He takes a big sip of milk and reaches over to rub Steve's shoulder. "But I don't like fighting, either."

Steve turns his head so Tony can benefit from the full power of his worried look. "I just want you to be okay," he says. Then he sits up. "No, wait--I don't mean I want you to be cheerful and perfect, I just mean...I know you now. I can see you a little better. And I hate seeing things that are hurting you and not trying to make them better."

That's harder than anyone else has tried, at least without a healthy side dish of wishing he'd go to hell or take care of his own problems.

"Thanks," Tony says quietly. "And I promise I'm working on all of it. And I'll let you help. We agreed we'd take care of each other, remember?"

"Yeah," says Steve pensively. "I remember."

"So we'll do that," Tony presses. "And we'll also take care of ourselves. I promise sometimes I can do that."

"I know that," Steve says. "Or you’d be dead. I just--you do have someone to help now, you know? You don't have to be hanging onto the edge constantly anymore. It's okay to--say things. I know you know, I just want to say that without yelling."

Tony goes quiet and looks very intently at the table. Then he says, "I don't always know that. I'm a very forgetful person." He looks up and meets Steve's eyes. "Hug me?"

Steve shifts his chair over and gives Tony a fast, hard hug that he doesn't release for a few too many seconds. "Of course," he whispers, before he eases up.

"Then we'll work on being okay together," Tony says thickly. "Hey. Steve. Love you."

Steve hugs him tighter. "Love you too," he says. "Please let Loki wait outside your door all day and get in bed with me instead."

"Can't," Tony says. He wishes he could. "We have to finish this, preferably today. We need to wrap this thing up before Odin, Balder, or (god forbid) Doom finds out what Loki's up to."

Steve pulls back. "Doom? But he knows the plan."

"Loki left out one or two details," Tony sighs. "And I'd better not share. Apparently he's good at plans with, uh, layers. Or nests."

"Limping layers," Steve says darkly.

"Yeah," Tony concedes. "But I fixed him up. Honestly, at this point I'm less worried about what he'll do to us and more worried about him surviving this plan. Physically, mentally, or emotionally."

Steve makes a pained noise. "Does he even want to do this?"

"Thor wants to do it," Tony says slowly. "And Loki wants to feel safe. I think that's about it."

"Arg," says Steve. "Fine. You did it. Now I feel terrible!"

"The worst part is, it's all true," Tony says, chewing on the crust of his sandwich. "He's a crazy murderer, sure, but he's also a kid who got _really messed up_ by his evil family."

Steve sighs. "As I understand it," he says, "the crazy murdering isn't even that crazy in Asgard."

"Kinda makes you think twice about Thor." Tony doesn't really mean it.

"Hm?" Steve says. "Well, he's certainly killed people. Heck, I've killed people, too."

"I've probably killed more people than both of you," Tony says unhappily. "We're kind of a team of fuckups."

"Arg," Steve says. "All right, go work on Loki's project, and please tell him--her? to bring back my dishes. Those’re precious things, you know? I got them at a flea market."

"I promise," Tony says, standing up, then bending down to kiss Steve quickly. "And don't worry, okay? We're all getting taken good enough care of by _someone."_

Steve cheers up. "It's good, isn't it?" he agrees. "Let me know if you need me to come scowl or be startlingly nice."

"I'll text you," Tony says, just to be annoying. He kisses Steve again, this time on the top of the head, and dashes out the door to meet Loki.


	26. loki plies clint with a magic arrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's not _quite_ sure why they're working with Thor's evil brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Clint being Clint?

Clint has just finished working out and is now working on lunch. He feels like he hasn't seen the rest of the team in roughly forever, or, like, a day. That's how it goes, apparently. He and Natasha and Jan and sometimes Hank have been picking up most of the slack the others have dropped while crying and having sex he never wants to hear about. Which has been happening more and more, lately. He really isn't expecting anyone to bug him.

Loki doesn't think of it as _bugging._ She thinks of it as sitting. She swoops (as she's been swooping, hiding her injury, since she left Rogers's apartment) up to Clint's table and sits down across from him, food before her.

"Hello, Mr. Barton," she says. "You look bored."

"Augh," Clint says. "I mean, hi?" It's true he is bored. Nobody fun comes to hang out with him. Natasha and Jan are fun, but they always go off somewhere as soon as a mission is over. And this doesn't look like fun, either. It looks like--what, exactly? 

"What?" he says out loud.

"I've been cooped up with Stark all day," Loki says, wrinkling her forehead. "I'm looking for new Avengers. I've never bothered you before at all, have I, Barton?" She picks up half her sandwich and bites it, a little viciously.

"Uh," Clint says. "So, this would be the magical genderbending." Because it's undeniably Loki. No one else is that made of teeth and green.

Loki frowns. "Not a word I use," she says, "but no matter. Does it trouble you?"

"You trouble me," Clint says, which is true, but also probably an incredibly dumb thing to say to an insane god who is being a girl and eating sandwiches at you. "I mean, not really. It's not the weirdest thing I've seen on this team. Besides, you're a hot girl."

Loki tilts her head and smirks. "What do you think, Barton? Will I kill you for paying too much attention?"

"Yes?" Clint hazards. He's pretty sure he's right. He's not _quite_ sure why they're working with Thor's evil brother. He can't edge away, though. That might bug her. Him. Her. "Him?" he says out loud. "I mean, uh, hm?"

Loki says, "I'd heard you weren't the most tactful creature ever made." She takes a bite of her soup, which is unsurprisingly _wholesome,_ and adds, "I haven't actually killed anyone you know."

"Does that make you _less_ evil?" Clint asks. "Because neither did, like, Hitler. And he was still pretty fucking evil."

Loki frowns quizzically. 

"Okay," Clint says. "But. You're not a nonlethal kind of being, that's my point. Just because you happen not to have _succeeded_ in offing my friends...but no hard feelings."

"Is that so?" Loki asks. "How very nice."

Clint scoots his chair back a little. "So," he says. "Uh. I guess I'm glad we're helping you overthrow your evil dad." He isn't very glad, but it beats being horribly killed when Loki decides he's being too blunt.

"I can feel your enthusiasm from here," Loki says sweetly. "If it reassures you at all, he _is_ evil. And I hear defeating evil is your--calling. Collectively."

"Apparently," Clint agrees. "Only everyone seems to have decided that means overthrowing governments. I could just shoot the guy." He laughs.

"It's not as though there's no one to shoot," Loki shrugs.

Clint perks up. "Is there someone to shoot? I like shooting people. I mean, not always _dead._ But sometimes. --Sorry, what exactly are we talking about?"

"We have an evil brother as well," Loki says. "As I may have mentioned. He needs to be shot. Don't worry, you can ask Stark, he knows it's a part of the plan."

"Really?" Clint says. He can hardly believe someone actually needs him to be useful in a non-insane way. "Wait, hold on, he's a _god,_ right?" Suddenly, a flaw appears in the plan.

Loki says, "Don't be stupid. I wouldn't ask anyone to shoot a god with the wrong arrow unless I wanted the archer dead. And what good are you dead, Barton?"

"Hopefullynogood?" Clint says, very fast. "Uh, I have a lot of special arrows. Not so many plans, though." He really wants to not be here having this conversation.

"Barton," Loki says patiently, "I am not trying to get you killed. I even have versions of this plan that don't involve you at all. They're more dangerous, but you're not in them. I only bring this up because you _expressed_ a desire for shooting people. In any case, you cannot have the right arrow yet because I haven't made it."

"No, no," Clint says, scooting his chair forward again. "I want in. I really do. Just brief me, okay? Then I'll be so useful." He's bored, okay?

Loki nods.

"My brother Balder," she explains, "is a danger. He is a weak king and a shell of a being. He is self-loathing and self-righteous, which, believe me, is worse than madness. To leave him as the king of Nornheim puts Asgard's peace with them at constant risk. So Asgard will offer a new treaty, and we will remove Balder. Not kill--just incapacitate. He is susceptible to little, but holly is his poison, more than it is to anyone else of our family. A holly-wood arrow, coated in ice--and I can give you that--will cripple him. If he resists, the ice will melt and he will die. If he does not, I will freeze him where he falls, and he will be preserved on the edge of death to dispatch as we must. I can stab him myself, you see, but I would be in his reach and he might see the weapon. You would be much tidier. And safer. And more efficient."

"Wow," Clint says. "Not gonna lie, I'm impressed. Any other details? Vantage point? Range? How the hell do I get to--to Nornheim?"

"Oh, I can bring you there," Loki says, leaning forward on her elbows. "Not to worry. With effort I can move all of our forces but Tyr's to their places. As to vantage, I expect Balder to be in one of two places--the woods, where he hunts, and you should have no trouble in that case, or in his rooms. If he will not come out the balcony on his own, I think he would be moved if I were there, if only to pull me out of sight. The keep is built into a cliff; there will be somewhere to shoot from, and to hide, and I can help with the hiding."

Clint nods. He's happy to have specs and a sense of what he's dealing with. The rest of it, he's less happy with. "So, you're going to make yourself bait for your admittedly evil brother so I can shoot him?" he asks.

Loki shrugs.

"Possibly not the best plan?" Clint suggests. "Not my business, but, you know. Just saying. Not that I think you can't handle yourself, since you've nearly killed half the team."

"Then there's nothing to worry about, is there?" she says. "Unless you miss."

Clint shivers, but then he frowns and says, "I don't miss. Just so you know."

Loki smiles. "Then there isn't a problem."

Clint grins. "You're terrifying. I'm sure you know that. You’re really a freaky individual. But at least you have a plan, which is more than I can say for us most of the time."

"I make," Loki says smugly, "the best plans."

"I hope that's true," Clint says agreeably. "So, how come you're a girl today? Just felt like it?"

Loki loses several layers of snakeish guile and says, "I always feel like it. I always feel like everything. Why is this such an issue everywhere I go?"

"Uh, because humans don't do it?" Clint says. "And Tony doesn't count. He mostly feels like a dick, I think. Or at least he should. Anyway, it's kind of novel to have a sexy man god suddenly turn into a sexy lady god. Not that I’d know if you are. A sexy man god. I'm not gay, weirdly."

He bites his sandwich.

"Being a novelty is nearly as unpleasant as being a pariah," Loki says. "And I can think of few things I care less about than your proclivities."

"No offense," Clint says, because clearly he's been offensive. "Really. I don't care about any of that stuff. I mostly care that you kept hurting my friends."

Loki looks defeated. "You are all too nice," she says. "Not mortals; you. You horrible Avengers. There's no getting around you or persuading you to forget when it comes to your _friendships."_

"Well," Clint says uncomfortably, "I guess that's the one thing we have in common. Look, I know I talk a lot, but I'm not trying to make you sad or anything. I know you're Thor's little--sibling and everything. And he might be kind of dumb, but he can't be completely making up the fact that you're worth our while." He finishes his sandwich and looks at her hopefully.

She gives him a complicated look, maybe a little bit stricken. "You're right. He is kind of dumb," she says. "He could be wrong."

"No one is that wrong," Clint says firmly. "Besides, it's not just him. You've won Tony over, too. And Tony's kind of hard to win over. At least when it comes to, you know, causes. Just ask Nick Fury."

"Jan I think likes me," Loki says, leaning back and crossing her arms, and looking sort of sullen. "She is alarming."

"Oh, she's fun!" Clint says. "By which I mean, uh, alarming. To most people." He likes Jan, because she can actually keep up with him and she doesn't care if he gossips. "But she means well."

"Kindred spirits," Loki sneers, but she drops the expression to lean forward and say, "I have no interest in harming any of you, horrible or not. I have no more need, and the need I saw before is--something I am cured of."

"Okay," Clint says amicably. "I can go with that. We're all assholes sometimes. I mean, I've heard really terrifying things about Natasha. And Bruce is a Hulk. And I guess we're friends with Steve's tiny assassin boyfriend now, too. So we can be friends with you."

Loki looks startled, and then she laughs. "Small and mystifying," she says.

"I'm bigger than you," Clint says. They're not standing up and he's not sure he's right, so he just smiles.

"I hear that oftener than I would like," Loki remarks. "Now I must go, because I have promised to meet Stark and work on our--project." She stands. "You--do wish to help with the plan?" she asks.

"Of course I do!" Clint says. "If it works, it'll look great on my resume. If not--well, I won't have to worry about it." He salutes cheerfully. "Just get me that arrow. You're the boss."

Loki straightens, looking pleased. "I am glad to hear it," she says. "Good day, Mr. Barton."

"Good day," Clint repeats. He waves after her as she leaves, thinking he's probably way too nice for his own good.

Loki, wandering away with a slight hitch in her step, cannot settle on being pleased that her plans are working or discomfited by the softness of Thor's so-called mighty heroes.


	27. loki and hulk strike a deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Smart witch,” Hulk tells her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Bruce should you be involving yourself in mutant issues?

Bruce is in his lab, which makes him easy to visit, one floor up from Hank Pym’s lab and two away from Tony’s. Three away from the kitchen where Hawkeye is. Bruce dislikes being idle and there’s no real training for him to do, so he is working on something else—an oral medication that will act as a base to neutralize the effect of an eight-year-old girl’s acid-secretion mutation. It’s not an X-Men project or a Brotherhood project (god forbid), because neither group believes in messing with what nature gave you, and the kid’s parents were sick of being asked if they were _sure_. Bruce, controversially, thinks it’s ethically sound to stop a young child from emitting so much acid that she can’t wear clothes or touch her parents without burning them. Although he knows what to expect, if anyone finds out he’s doing it.

He is trying to make it grape-flavored, anyway. In the meantime.

Loki comes in by the door, and both knocks and clears her throat. Bruce turns around, fairly fast. He says, “Ah.”

Loki has rid herself of dishes by now, so she threads her fingers together in front of her stomach and says, “Banner. I haven’t met Hulk.”

“He won’t be happy to see you,” Bruce says.

“Are _you?”_ Loki asks.

Bruce gives her a look that suggests _she had better hope so._

“Dr. Banner,” Loki says, “what chance is there that you’ll remain on good terms with your counterpart if you bring him to Asgard and do not let him free; for my cause and by my rules; and you do not, to compound it, even offer him the opportunity to put his opinion forth beforehand?”

Bruce pauses. “Not much chance,” he says.

“And he will make both you and Thor very unhappy,” Loki concludes.

Bruce sighs.

“I wish you weren’t actually clever,” he says.

“I want _you_ to march with Thor, not Hulk,” Loki says. “I want him as a surprise, if the need comes.”

“Oh, god,” Bruce says. “You’re also hugely problematic.”

“Can I speak with him?” Loki asks unerringly.

“I’ll ask you both not to destroy my lab,” Bruce says. At least it’s getting easier to let Hulk out. Bruce punches the wall beside his head without further preamble, and in the moment of endorphin rush, Hulk grabs a toehold and launches himself into being.

Loki watches, maybe rudely. If she’s pale when Hulk turns to look at her, it’s half because she’s injured and weary and balancing too many precarious plans on thin threads.

Hulk snarls. He says, “Little witch tried to kill us, tried hurt Thor, trying stupid plans gonna get witch killed.”

Loki says, standing her ground (barely wobbling), “Doctor Banner and Thor would rather I live.”

Hulk grunts, and then swipes at her. She tries to dodge, and trips, gasping; Hulk’s huge hand clips her on the way down. She sprawls on the floor, wary and chagrined, biting back a moan at the pain jarring through her leg.

“Won’t kill,” Hulk grumbles. “But little witch got it coming.”

“No doubt,” Loki says. She climbs to her feet, delicately, and drops onto a stool by one of the steel tables. “Do you take apologies?”

“Take and _smash,”_ says Hulk.

“I apologize,” Loki says. “I would have sooner, but I was frightened of you.”

“Not frightened now?”

“I am,” Loki says, “but now I need something from you.”

“Honest,” Hulk says. He sounds surprised, but not as though he’s decided that Loki’s honesty is a good thing or a bad one.

“I doubt you’d appreciate deception,” Loki says.

“Smart witch,” Hulk tells her.

“Dr. Banner and my brother wish to aid me in Asgard,” she says. “For revenge. Justice. Whatever it is they think it is.”

Hulk waves a hand. “Doesn’t matter. Thor dad deserve.”

 _That_ surprises Loki. She says, “Are you willing to be—part of it?”

Hulk is silent. Loki plays with the edge of her sleeve. Hulk says, “Gonna be a fight?”

“I hope—not,” Loki says. “I hope that only Balder’s blood falls, and little enough of that.”

“What need Hulk for?” Hulk demands.

“If my hopes fail, what could be a better failsafe?” Loki asks.

Hulk says, “Want a weapon.”

Loki says, “I want a comrade. Hidden in Dr. Banner. And if there is battle, I want a warrior. Earth’s greatest is before me.”

Hulk looks at her hard, and then says, very suspiciously, “ _Hidden?”_

“You’re far more distracting than Doctor Banner,” Loki says. “I want a spectacle, but not a distraction. The show is in Odin, and in the queen. In you’d I’d rather have an ambush. Or an avalanche.”

“You make deal with Hulk just to shut Hulk up.”

“I’ll make a deal with you because I want the plan to work.”

“Hah!” says Hulk. “Better make more deals. Hulk plans better than your plans, and Hulk doesn’t plan.”

“I wasn’t entirely in my faculties,” Loki says, irritated.

“Still crazy, little witch. Still do stupid things.” Hulk sniffs the air. “Smell different from before.”

“Holly?” Loki suggests. “Woman?”

“Blood,” says Hulk.

“I’m not bleeding,” Loki says dismissively.

“You think Hulk stupid?”

“No.”

Hulk snorts. “Hulk could kill you,” he says.

“Probably,” Loki agrees.

“Hulk didn’t try. Hulk didn’t knock you down.” And Hulk can see the way she holds her body, adjusting her weight to alleviate the pain.

“What is your _point?”_ Loki demands.

“You do stupid things, get Hulk and puny Bruce’s friends hurt, Hulk smash you. Witch plans bad for Hulk friends, Hulk bad for witch.”

“If I thought it were entirely safe I wouldn’t recruit you.”

“Not agreeing with Hulk, Hulk not agreeing with you,” Hulk says.

Loki sighs.

“Little witch so clever, gets hurt every time it makes a plan,” Hulk scoffs.

“But I do get up again,” Loki says placidly. Hulk gives her a hard look.

“You want revenge?”

“I want the plan to work,” she says.

“You hate ‘em?” Hulk asks.

“Of course I do,” Loki tells him. “They were my family.”

Hulk says, “Hulk help. Hulk wait, and come out if witch’s plan is bad. If plan bad, Hulk smash. Witch and everything.”

“Deal,” Loki says.


	28. tyr pays a visit to avengers tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Anyway," he shrugs, a little awkward, "I feel like I've been fighting on your team my whole life, so I'm pretty fucking thrilled to do it for real."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: references to past rape/incest, death, and limb loss (nothing explicit).

It's after dinner when Thor finds Tony and Loki in the lab. He's been trying to give Loki space, trusting his team to take care of any problems that arise, but now he has news to deliver. As the door is unlocked, he doesn't bother knocking. He finds Tony looking exhausted and uncombed, but very pleased. Loki looks somewhat worse. Thor frowns.

"Hail, friend. Hail, sibling. How goes the work?"

Loki offers a less than usually tentative smile. "Finished," he says. "We can show you...? Although if you ask either of us to stand now you may be disappointed."

"I swear that door used to lock," Tony says, but he sounds happy. "Here, come on in."

Thor beams at them. They seem to have been getting along, even if they have been working too hard. "I'd like to see," he says. "And then I have a matter to discuss with you."

Loki waves a hand at Tony, leaning back in his chair. "You display, I'll explain," he says a little rudely.

"Of course," Tony says, hopping off his stool. He winces. "Wow. I definitely sat still for too long. Can't usually even _do_ that. Okay, Thor, check this out."

He displays something that looks to Thor like magic, although he's been told in the past that Tony's science isn't.

"The simple version," Loki says, "is that it's what it looks like. It's a net. You throw it. You'll have to wear gloves, because it's essentially a magnet for Odin's power, and we aren't--entirely immune. The rope's core is holly, you see."

Thor suppresses a shudder. The thing looks suddenly less innocuous. "Cruel," he says. "And clever. Very. I'm impressed, sibling."

Loki makes a pinched little face. "So pleasing that my cruelty impresses you," he says, a trifle too flatly. "The casing is a highly conductive metal; Tony made that. It means the net will work quickly, and it provides you a feint. Odin may not guess its true use until too late if you charge it with your lightning before you cast it."

Thor notes the use of Tony's first name. He smiles. "It's perfect, Loki. You two are far more inventive than I am."

"Yeah," Tony says dryly, "but we can't make lightning."

"What's your news?" Loki asks abruptly.

"I'm bringing Tyr here," Thor says. "I thought it might be wise for him to meet the people he's working with before he does. He could prove difficult otherwise."

"He's a general, it's a reasonable, assumption," Loki says. "Do you need my help fetching him or will he have a pretext?"

"Tyr always has pretexts," Thor says. "Father trusts him." He frowns. "Loki, what I said just now--When I called your device cruel--"

"You were being an asshole," Tony finishes. He gives them both a tight little smile. "But it's okay. It's not cruel. It's just _incredibly effective."_

Loki swallows. "Of course it is," he says.

Thor sighs. "I'm sorry," he says. "I only meant--I want so badly to hurt him that it's all I can think of. But you don't. You just have this perfect plan. I'm proud of you." He ducks his head, ashamed.

"Yes, well," Loki says gruffly flustered, "we will see whether it takes."

"It will," Tony says. "So, when did you think you were bringing the god of war to my house?"

"Soon," Thor says, unperturbed. "He said he'd leave Asgard as soon as he could and, er, meet our forces."

"Oh good," Loki says. He says to Tony, "Maybe you'll have let loose Mr. Barnes by then."

Tony raises his eyebrows. "Yeah? No, you're probably right. I need to double-check with Hank, but it should be okay. We'll have to monitor him pretty closely. But I don't think it's really _essential_ that he meet Tyr."

Loki smirks. "Who here is more a devotee of the god of war?"

"Uh," Tony says. "Good point."

Thor laughs. "I wonder if they'll love or hate each other?"

"I couldn't say," Loki answers opaquely.

"Well, soon we'll find out," Thor says cheerfully. "He ought to arrive--"

"Okay!" Tony interrupts. "I'm going to the lobby to watch for giant war gods. Just in case. I don't want him walking around without my say-so."

"He's only a bit of a brute," Loki says. "Don't fear, Stark."

"I'm mostly afraid for my walls," Tony sighs. "People tend to show up and put dents in them."

"Ours, too," Thor agrees. Perhaps he had better join Tony in the lobby, he decides.

"Mention that you'd prefer he not do it, then," Loki says. He gives Tony a sideways look. "If that doesn't work perhaps I can talk some manners into him."

"You two get along?" Tony asks. "Not that surprising, I guess. Well, if you feel like sticking around, I can bring him by your borrowed room later. Otherwise, Doom's probably worried about you and we can catch you some other time."

Loki says, "You and Thor go. I'll look over everything again. If I may?" He tries to indicate to Tony that if he stands now, no amount of obtuseness will prevent Thor from seeing that he's injured.

"You'd better," Tony says firmly. "Someone should. We don't need slip-ups. See you soon?"

"Yes," Loki says, hiding his relief. As Tony and Thor start for the door, he says quickly, "Tony--You've...done a great deal of difficult work well today, and much of it is...to my benefit. Thank you."

"Oh," Tony says, "hey, any time. I mean that. Any time." He smiles at Loki. "Hang in there." He grabs Thor's arm and heads out the door, making sure to lock it behind him. Loki could use some peace and quiet.

Loki looks after them and, when the door locks, sinks back in his chair with a sigh. It can't really be relief yet, because there are too many threads in the air, and they might still tangle. They might, when it comes down to it, all still die. But there is an odd peace running through the pattern that's--it's not _familiar._ What peace he had as a child was not the same as this. This is built on top of too many terrible things to resemble what he's lost and forgotten in all but name. But this, whatever it is, might still be _good._ It's small, but it is there, and he does not have the will to shake it loose.

~

Tyr has been standing in the foyer of the Midgardian castle for fifteen minutes when Thor and his little general arrive. So far, he is unimpressed. 

"Brother," he says.

"Hi," says Tony. "Wow. Every time I meet one of you guys it's a completely different kind of intimidating. Okay. So, you must be Tyr!"

Tyr nods, still unimpressed. "And you must be their war leader."

"Tony Stark," Thor says brightly.

Tyr wonders if Midgard has done something to Thor's mind.

Tony doesn't actually, realistically expect that the god of war will come down from Asgard into his shiny high rise and drop his jaw in wonder. But he can't help feeling a little defensive. He's worked _hard_ on this, damn it.

"What we lack in numbers we make up for in really cool weapons," Tony says. "Trust me, we do actually know how to do our jobs. I mean, it's mostly non-lethal weapons these days, since I got sick of my bombs ending up with the wrong people, which I guess is not going to win you over, but, okay, so, do you want to meet anybody or see anyone in particular? Go over the plan?"

Oh, god.

"You talk a lot, for a general," Tyr observes. "But if Thor trusts you to do your job, he may not be wrong."

Thor glares at Tyr, and Tyr considers the fact that Thor is actually his equal or better in strength.

"Your castle is most impressive," he says grudgingly. "And I would like to meet your other generals."

"Well, we're more of a team than an army," Tony says. "Not really any generals. We do have a captain?"

Tyr nods. "That's something, at least. You believe in rank. And clearly have some type of organization. But I care not, so long as you are an effective war machine."

"Er," says Tony. "More like problem solvers. We are. I did the war machine thing. I mean, I did actually do War Machine, which--you have no idea who that is, but I actually mean I used to spend a lot of energy helping other people be better at war than everyone else. Which is as it turns out is not totally my thing." He perks up. "It's Bucky's, though. Loki said you might like to meet Bucky."

Tyr ignores most of what comes out of Stark's mouth. "I would like that," he says.

"You have much in common," Thor says helpfully. He glances pointedly at Tyr's hand, for some reason Tyr doesn’t yet follow.

"Great!" Tony says, fairly certain that he does not look like he feels that it's great. "Come on. This way." He leads them to the elevators and hits the button. When the door opens, he starts feeling really, really short.

"This man leads you in battle?" Tyr asks, not enough under his breath.

Thor frowns at him again. "In battle and in other things, yes. You would do well to respect him."

Tony gives Thor a smile and says, "Don't worry about it. I just talk a lot. I, uh, I do have useful skills, though. In we go!" He leads them into the elevator and feels even shorter. "JARVIS, can you bring us to Hank's lab, please?"

"Certainly, sir," JARVIS says. Tony thinks JARVIS disapproves of Tyr's attitude, which Tony appreciates. At least his own machines are on his side.

Tyr startles. "The wall spoke," he says flatly. "And you Midgardians are said to have no magic."

Thor smiles the delighted smile of someone who is not, for once, the least knowledgeable person in the room. Or in the tiny, fast-moving box.

"Oh, JARVIS!" Tony says. "He's a computer. A man-made intelligence. He runs the...house. Helps me when I build things. Kind of a butler and a handyman and a security team in one. Right, JARVIS?"

"Quite right, sir," JARVIS agrees sternly.

Tyr makes a quiet noise of distress, and Thor _laughs._

"Quiet yourself, brother, if you want my help," Tyr grumbles. He remains silent for the rest of the ride.

 _Good JARVIS,_ Tony thinks smugly. When the elevator lets them off, he leads the two gods (huh) into Hank's lab. Hank is there, and Bucky is--standing next to him, not in his cell.

"Whoa," Tony says. "You're out. He's out!" he says to Hank.

"Of course," Hank says. "I sent you a message. I told you we'd isolated all the triggers. Don't you read my messages? It was ages ago."

"I guess you might try putting me back _in,"_ Bucky says, eyebrow raised. Tony gets the sense that he will feel it if he tries, and the feeling will hurt.

"Now here is a soldier," Tyr says approvingly. The young man even stands like he's a seasoned veteran. Tyr catches sight of his gleaming hand and takes note. That explains Thor.

"Bucky, Hank, this is my brother Tyr," Thor says. "Tyr, these are more of my _friends."_

Bucky looks Tyr up and down. "James Buchanan Barnes," he says. "At your service." Literally.

"You've seen war," Tyr says, pleased. "I would be glad to have you serve with me."

He ignores the face Thor is making.

"The god of war? Pretty sure I have been for about half a century," Bucky says, eyebrows raised. "But yeah, I'll take a closer post. Though as I hear it, we'll be unlucky if there's anything to fight."

"Oh, surely there'll be _something_ to fight," Hank says. "Not everyone in Asgard can hate the king."

"Sadly, Hank is right," Thor says. "This show of force may need to be more than a show before we're done. But not against Odin."

"You would die," Tyr agrees. "But I have faith in your ability to do battle with some of our subjects if need be." He says it to everyone, but he's looking at Bucky. He seems to understand what Tyr is, which is more than most of Thor's mortals do.

Bucky laughs. "If I die it won't be anything new," he says. He extricates himself from behind a table and ventures closer to the others. "Anyway, I've had worse causes."

"Such is the way with war," Tyr says. "Often the ones doing battle are not the ones choosing the cause."

Bucky is small, especially compared to Tyr, but he doesn't look fragile. He's built like some of Tyr's more ferocious generals.

"That's the truth," Bucky says. "But this one I'm choosing. I chose before I got asked. I don't think your brother was even trying to trick me into it." He shrugs. "If he was it doesn't matter."

"I doubt he was, for once," Tyr says. "This war was not his choice, after all. I doubt he feels he needs...avenging."

"It's as if we don't exist," Thor complains.

"Thor," says Tony, "shut up. Okay? Actually, no. Come talk to me about important things while Tyr decides he doesn't hate mortals. Come on. Come out here. Now. Hank, you can also be a part of this important conversation." He attempts to herd them out of the lab. Hank is so surprised to be invited that he forgets to protest. Thor sighs like the put-upon elder brother he so rarely has a chance to be, and follows Stark and the scientist out.

Tyr shrugs, unconcerned. "I see we share a handicap," he says, raising his bad hand.

Bucky grins, which he thinks is probably still _fairly_ charming. " _That_ was when I died," he says. "So, you know, I did work for it."

"I've never died," Tyr says, "so consider me impressed. A wolf ate mine."

"Wolf?" Bucky asks, frowning. "Is this a recurring theme with your family?"

"It's his child," Tyr says sourly. "The wolf was Loki's child. Our father is the god of wolves. For this, we go to war."

Bucky thinks about it. "You know," he says, "I appreciate that your hand gets bit off by your brother's kid and you decide that's another reason to hate your dad instead of a reason to hate them both and say to hell with 'em all."

"You may not be able to tell," Tyr says, leaning against a table, "but Loki actually means well most of the time. Some people forget this. I don't. He's my brother."

"I don't think he meant well the first time I met him," Bucky says. "Think he did the second time, though."

"I can believe that," Tyr concedes. "He was mad, for a time. Truly mad. But things are improving, thanks in part to your companions." He sighs. "I am the god of war. My business is not emotions. I'm sorry if Loki caused you difficulty, though."

"From what I've heard," Bucky says, "he was just trying to push other people over the edge. Hurt Thor for not protecting him, maybe, by making it happen again. But what do I know, right? Anyway," he shrugs, a little awkward, "I feel like I've been fighting on your team my whole life, so I'm pretty fucking thrilled to do it for real."

Tyr smiles, a smile like swords and bullets and every battle Bucky has seen. "You know me," he says. "You look at me and see war. And you don't shy from it."

"Why would I?" Bucky says. "I told you, you're already my god. I was raised on you. What'm I gonna run to?"

It's been a long time since Odin and his sons have had more than a handful of mortals to worship them. Tyr has never had much of a taste for worship. The way Bucky is looking at him is better.

"I would gladly be your god, if you would be willing to fight as my general," he says.

Bucky laughs, biting and delighted. "I ain't ever been a leader," he says. "You might have trouble with that. But gimme a gun and a target and a reason, even if it's just 'because I said so,' and I'll swear you'll get a good soldier out of it." He feels more at ease and complete talking to Tyr, at this moment, than he has in years. In decades.

Tyr steps closer, into Bucky's space. "Then that is what I ask for, James Buchanan Barnes. A soldier. My soldier."

"You've got it," Bucky says. He says it easily, but he's serious. He hopes Steve doesn't mind, but then, it's not really Steve's business anymore, is it?

Tyr doesn't know any of the mortal rules, but he knows Bucky. He knows Bucky because he knows war. He isn't sure if that's enough of an excuse to touch him.

"If you're wondering about any of my qualifications other than being willing to take lives and take orders," Bucky says, with a sideways smile, "I'm good with guns. And I'm good with my hands."

Tyr laughs, and the sound echoes off the walls of the lab, too loud and violent. "With both of them, I'm sure. We make do." He puts his bad hand on Bucky's shoulder.

Bucky turns his head to look at it, and when he turns back to Tyr's face, there's something dangerous in his eyes that's only half like battle. "Well, you know," he says, "sometimes you gotta take what they give you to own you and make 'em choke on it."

Tyr moves his hand, out of respect and to give Bucky a chance to make his own choices about the space between them. " _Yes,"_ he says.

Bucky reaches out his right hand, his flesh hand, fast, and catches the cuff of Tyr's bad one. "And that's what we're gonna do, right?" he says. "That's what the plan is all for."

"You understand," Tyr says. "You understand taking powerlessness and letting it make you dangerous. That's why Loki likes you." Bucky is so small next to him, but Tyr feels almost dwarfed by the waves of fierce conviction coming from him.

"I think I might like him, too, one of these days," Bucky says. "But I'll fight for him now. Not sure where he's planned to put me, but I'll fight for him."

"My troops could learn a thing or two from you," Tyr says. "Depending on how well you take orders. Do you _stay_ where you're put?"

Bucky grins. "Depends on the...situation. In this case? Yes."

"Good," Tyr says. He says it so it sounds less like approval of Bucky's sense of duty and more like a pat on the head.

"Aw, gee," says Bucky coolly.

Tyr realizes he's going to have to leave or do something that won't endear him to Thor or Thor's team.

"I look forward to standing at your side," he says. It takes some effort.

"Likewise," says Bucky. He gives Tyr the most smolderingly devil-may-care look he's got.

Tyr doesn't throw Bucky against a wall and tear his clothes off. Instead, he nods to him and walks briskly out of the lab without looking back.

~

"Oh good," Tony says. "Is he alive?"

"Hnn," Tyr says. He clears his throat. "Very much so." He avoids looking at Thor.

"Oh good," Tony says again, mechanically. "Well. I guess we could go down to _my_ lab, now, and look at the net Loki and I made for you and Thor. So nice to see you getting along with Bucky. Here we go."

"Can I see it?" Hank asks yearningly.

"Sure, yes, why not," Tony says. "Okay. Here we go."

"Anything to leave this place," Thor says grumpily. "I feel unclean."

"Some of us know how to take enjoyable companionship--" Tyr begins.

"The net," Thor says. "You should see the net, little brother. And we should think no more of this."

Tyr sighs and decides to let it go for now. Thor has never known how to choose acceptable partners.

"Oh _good,"_ Tony says a little desperately, steering for the elevators. "Let's just go right away."


	29. frigga and her children and the fall of odin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is a quickly growing roar, of disbelief and rage, aimed at all parties.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Odin is the worst dad ever, references to past incest/rape.

Despite everyone's less optimistic estimations, it's only two days after Tony and Loki finish the net and Tyr comes to Midgard that everything is in place, and there’s nothing left to wait for. Tyr's troops are displaying at Odin's palace--exactly as they should be, as far as Odin knows. Unless, of course, they've been betrayed. Loki has sent Natasha and Jan ahead to Volstagg, who should by now have brought them to Frigga. Volstagg and Sif will be waiting for Loki to bring Thor, Victor and the rest of the Avengers into Asgard. Hogun, if he is not already on the Bifrost, will be soon.

Loki only has a few points of concern. Bucky is concealed among Tyr's men, a mortal with a gun playing at being an Asgardian. Thor's company might be intercepted as Loki brings them through. After that, the net might not work, and Karnilla might not (though she will) take the peace, and Loki and Clint will have incensed her pride and then killed her husband.

He is not so worried, though. And really, he counts it as a good omen that Victor hasn't realized he's hurt. Maybe everything else will go well, too.

He takes a deep breath and says, "When you would like, Thor, we can go."

Thor sets his jaw and nods. The last few days have gone as well as he could have hoped. No one has gotten too angry and Loki's plan has come together with no holes that he can see. It's still a huge gamble, but it will be worth it.

"I'm ready," he says. "If all of you are." His teammates nod.

Loki nods back, shortly, and opens the way to Asgard. It opens to a small alley a few streets off from the palace. They will come from the side as Tyr and his troops stand directly facing the palace's open doors. Frigga will come from the other direction, and half of Tyr's troops will move to her back as she does. Odin will be flanked.

"Go," Loki says, standing aside. It's not so many people; Victor won't expand his army until they have gone through the portal.

"Avengers?" Thor says, checking again. He can’t help but be a little anxious.

"As assembled as we can be at the moment," Tony says dryly. "We're ready. We've been ready."

Thor nods. "Then follow me!"

Loki holds the door for them until they have all gone through (a few of them looking wary and the rest googly-eyed). He steps in behind and lets the way shut behind them.

"Victor," he says softly, "Now is the time for you. Barton, don't get lost."

"Thanks," says Clint. "I'll try to be careful about that."

Victor smiles grimly behind the mask. Asgard, even this back way, is gorgeous, but he can't currently appreciate it. He flips the necessary switches to begin the unfolding of his troops. They gleam where the unearthly light of Asgard strikes them, and Victor's smile widens.

"Oh, very pretty," Loki murmurs, which is all he can offer before he looks questioningly up to Thor.

"All is ready," Thor says. "The ravens will go to father as soon as they see us. We should make haste so we're not stopped before mother has a chance to speak."

Everyone falls in behind him as he moves towards the palace. Loki leans over to Clint and says, "I will tell you when to break off and follow me." When Clint nods, Loki waits until Victor catches up and puts himself behind Victor's shoulder, where his gait is mostly invisible (especially through Victor's mask). "You are well?" he murmurs.

"Of course," Victor says softly. "Why would I not be? Unlike these other fools, I have no fear of failure. I ought to be asking you." He has refrained from asking Loki, as Loki has surely had quite enough of that. Instead, he's busied himself with his work and allowed Loki to do the same.

Loki snorts. "Inquire at the end of the day," he says.

"I will," Victor promises. "Stay by me." It's an invitation, not a demand.

"I will as I can," Loki says. "Trust me to be where I must be, Victor. I will take care of the rest."

They come out into a main avenue, and people begin to turn and look at them, half-banished Thor and fallen Loki, their small band of mortals and their glittering troops. It's an uncertain look that most of them give, between welcome and fear and beligerence. It's not uglier than Loki expects, but he hopes it cools when Frigga has spoken. Assuming they get so far.

Fandral emerges, with only the small commotion his arrival usually brings, from a low building at the side of the street. He's holding a tankard.

"Hail, friends," he says, loudly enough that the passers-by will take note.

Steve looks at Tony to asks with his eyebrows if they should be saying hail back. He does not feel that they're getting very good cues from their Asgardians. He's not entirely sure what to do with any of this court intrigue way of doing business. The Avengers are out of place, Loki seems unperturbed, and Doom is of course as inscrutable as his unnerving robot army.

"Just follow them," Tony mutters. "We're only here to look like backup, anyway. Hopefully." He's trying very hard not to look at everything around them as potential scientific expansion. The kind of energy Asgard probably puts out...but it's irrelevant. It's just easier to think about than the real reason they're here.

"Hail!" Thor is telling Fandral brightly. People are openly staring now, especially at Loki.

"There," Loki murmurs, quietly, but loudly enough now to be heard by the mortals over the anxiously chattering commentary of the small crowd growing around them. "The palace is ahead, and the shouting is Tyr's troops in formation. The brightest glint of gold is Odin's throne." The word "father" has slipped once more out of his vocabulary.

"I can barely see _anything,"_ Clint mutters back. Too crowded, bad light. He hopes it's easier to see in Nornheim, actually. He doesn't mind a tough shot but in this case he'd prefer not to have to make one.

"We'll get closer," Victor says, surprising himself by speaking to Clint. "I'm sure you'll see all you want by the time we're done." He's already disgusted with the citizens of this city of the gods, bickering among themselves about what the return of Odin's children might mean. He presses the right button to signal his robots to shift into a slightly more impressive formation.

"I _mean_ that it's bright," Clint says. "I mean it's all made of this gold shit and the sky is like two hundred different colors and that makes it hard to see."

"Not all the realms are like this," Loki says obscurely. It's obviously true, as the Midgardians have just come from Midgard and it's not nearly as bright, but Clint gathers that Loki is talking about Nornheim, and he nods, satisfied.

"The robots don't exactly help with the glare," Tony says (hypocritically, Victor thinks).

"Well," Fandral interrupts, "soon, I suppose, we'll find out if there's anything worth seeing that won't be our horrifying deaths!"

The roar of Tyr's troops and the separate roars of the crowds wash over them, and they begin to cut through, Thor at their head. Tyr does not stop his troops' exercises until Odin raises his hand. Then he halts them, with a sharp command.

"Oh my," says Hank.

"Shit," Tony whispers, so quietly that no one can hear him.

Thor brings them to halt, and stands, looking at Odin with contempt. "We've come home," he says, over the crowd and the soldiers.

Odin rises, and the roar of the crowd dwindles.

Tyr gestures to his troops, and they split down the middle, parting to accommodate Thor's approach. Those to Odin’s left swing around farther than strictly necessary. 

"My sons," Odin says. He should be unsure of himself, but he doesn't sound it. "Why have you come here?" He's looking at Loki.

Loki, from his place some way back from Thor, looks at Odin with his jaw clenched, and he does not presume to answer.

He does not need to. Frigga approaches from the east, attended by her handmaidens, and by Sif, Volstagg, Jan, and Natasha. Frigga crosses the stage of Odin's palace with her back straight, lifting her skirts to avoid the kick of her feet as she strides toward her husband.

"They come to stand at my back, Odin Allfather," she says, Tyr’s troops behind her. Now the crowd is silent. Her voice is deep, and the acoustics here were meant to be good. Her words ring.

Odin turns to look at his wife, looking rather more unsure. "My wife. What's this?" he demands.

"In your younger days you were a war-maker and a blood-letter," Frigga says. Her voice can wrap itself around any words until they become a story, and it only takes this many for her audience to become enrapt. "You battled the svartalfs near to extinction. You might have done the same to the Jotuns, though you lost your eye to them. You might have done more than seal their power and show them shame. You have been known for this as wise and peace-weaving. You have made known that these things are so. Yet still you send one son out for your blood-battles," she says, gesturing to Tyr, "while another you banish for acting as you have, as Tyr has acted for you." She gestures to Thor and pauses. "This is not a peace-loving king, Odin Allfather."

Because Odin _is_ wise, he does not show his anger. "The Jotuns are long conquered, my queen," he says. "This is bloody, but it is history. And Tyr's battles are only to keep our borders safe. One does not remain king by sitting quietly and waiting. But I do not seek war."

"Defeated they are," Frigga answers calmly. "But the Jotuns are not spared the little they are spared because your heart is kind. Neither shown the humiliation shown them because your heart is just. You let them live and hold all their power to your heart because you have held them also. You wish to show you own them in all regards. You have fraternized with the enemy, Odin Allfather," she says, and nothing can be heard but the clipped syllables of her bitter words. "You have lain many times with the sovereign of Asgard's greatest enemy. You have rutted with Laufey."

There is a quickly growing roar, of disbelief and rage, aimed at all parties. Loki thinks there is mixed into it a thin chorus of _that’s what it deserves_ and _that is how you keep an enemy low,_ but those voices are hushed by their neighbors almost immediately. Frigga is serene and unmoving before it all.

"Stand firm," Loki murmurs, and the Midgardians manage not to do much worse than look a little anxious.

Odin is silent for a moment, but the roar of the crowd grows. He raises his hand.

"This is a lie," he says.

"Fool," Victor mutters.

Frigga says, without any apparent fear or hesitation, "If you cannot trust your wife, perhaps you will trust another? Heimdall speaks truth, does he not? And he is loyal to you. If we call him to you and you ask whether he has seen you lie with Laufey, what will he say?"

"You will be silent!" Odin cries. "Heimdall serves _me_ and would never besmirch my name with _lies_." He turns to look at his children standing before him. "And you have come here to stand by your mother's words?"

The crowd murmurs. Loki thinks things are erring on Frigga's side; Odin's outburst does not show the strength that they expect of him, and though Loki knows they do not take Frigga as seriously as they ought to, they do love her. To hear her silenced troubles many of them nearly as much as the terrible words she is speaking.

Loki listens, waiting for a tide change that may not come. He wants very much not to make himself more visible than he already is, but there was always the chance he would have to put that particular want aside.

"Yes," Tyr says, stirring. "Her words, our strength." He bows to Frigga and falls silent to make his point.

"But this is a fantasy," Odin says. His voice trembles with what must be rage. "I would never take a monster into my bed."

"How could you?" Frigga answers dryly. "I am frequently in it."

This gains her a laugh from some of the lookers-on. Odin glowers at her, and at the crowd. He sees, bitterly, how this is going. Even if Frigga is silenced now, the accusation has been made in public. The rumors won't stop. Perhaps there will even be proof.

"I don't know what madness has taken you," Odin says, "but I will not allow you to stand before me and defame me. It is shameful. And you, Thor, do you truly come back here now, for this? This is not what I wanted for you."

Thor shakes his head. "We're here to expose the truth," he says simply.

Frigga says, quietly, but still clearly enough for all to hear in slight bewilderment, "You know that I have spared monsters before, and you know, _Allfather,_ why I have done it. I may forgive those monsters. Laufey himself I can forgive. But I will spare no longer a king who betrays his people, his wife, his children, his enemies themselves."

"I have never betrayed my--" Odin begins, but he chokes on the word _children_ as he tries to force it out. He looks out into the crowd and sees Thor, sees the _mortals_ at his side, sees many things, but far too late.

"You have brought your own ruin here," he promises them, looking again at Loki.

Frigga sees the direction of his gaze and she looks calmly (not calmly, but her appearance is for the crowds) out to Loki. 

"I thought you mourned your lost son," Frigga challenges him coolly. "Do you truly see ruin in him rather than salvation?"

Loki looks frightened, in a held-back way, but when Frigga glances back at him he nods shortly: permission for Frigga to use whatever she needs in order to win. Frigga's heart breaks a little for him; she tries not to take advantage of what he’s giving her. She tries to tell only the story of what will hurt the least and help the most.

"You claim you've made no betrayals, husband. Odin Allfather, I have raised for you four children," Frigga says, and casts her glance back to him. "I have birthed for you three. I see your eye falls on the fourth as though it is that child who led us here. As though he is a viper in the nest." The crowds turn to look at Loki. They rather obviously think the same thing. 

"Yet it was you who brought the infant here," Frigga continues. "Why should you, when your wife was fertile and your line secured? Why would you bring an infant of unspoken parentage into your house and give it the promises of princehood? It is not how things are done.”

This time, Odin does nothing to silence the crowd. He looks at Loki with open anger, unable to conceal it. Then he turns on Frigga. "All that I did, I did for a reason. If I indeed brought Laufey's spawn into Asgard, it was for a purpose. If you and all my children fail to see it, is no failing of mine as king."

From the shocked sounds of the crowd, not everyone has heard this part of the story. They knew Loki was vicious and mad and a traitor; they didn’t know that Loki was a _Jotun_.

"What right had you to Laufey's child?" Frigga says above them. "Even defeated, why would Laufey give up without comment a child he bore, to the enemy he most loathed? Rather kill it, would he not?"

"He left his child to die," Odin says stiffly. "I wanted to bring Jotunheim under Asgardian rule one day. Unite the kingdoms. No matter his parentage, I loved Loki..."

But the words die on his lips. He is too furious to hide it, and he knows so.

“But it matters not,” he says, his eye on the crowd as much as on Frigga. “That child was lost to cruelty and madness, and I see now I will never regain him. Tell me, wife, that I have not lost you to the same.”

"Thor," Loki says urgently, "move aside for me."

Thor does so, but only after a moment's hesitation. He has to trust Loki, and that includes not fearing for him. It is difficult.

Loki skirts past him and up the steps to stand between Frigga and Odin, because Odin has just done something canny, has made himself a martyr, and Loki has to turn the tide back against him before he can gain any ground. 

He is counting and dismissing the cost even as he starts moving; Victor will know now that he is hurt, but there's nothing Victor can do, not until and unless this plot is concluded successfully. He is standing, younger and smaller and less loved, under Odin’s eye--but he has done that before, and he didn’t really expect to stay in the shadows now.

He says, harsh and sure and slow in a way that quiets more of the audience than he expects, " _Laufey's spawn?"_ He flushes cold and dusk-blue and blood-eyed, and he meets Odin's anger with as much terror as he expects to. The tremor of seeing an enemy's face on the steps of their palace runs through the crowd, and they fall quiet.

“You hid it from them,” Loki says, and he gestures to all of Asgard. He even meets a few of their eyes. “Merely raising a Jotun was so grotesque you hid it from everyone but your wife. You couldn’t possibly have hoped for _union._ You didn’t hope to unite anything. You must have wanted something else.”

When that’s had its effect, Loki says, "But I wear two skins, father.” He thaws, and the blue melts away. “One of them is Laufey's, and one of them--is yours."

“A glamour!” Odin shouts. “To protect you from this!” He sweeps his hand across the crowd. The Asgardians do not like that at all. In the crowd, Victor is just as furious.

"You could have taught them better, but instead you hid me, you took me from my mother out of spite and lied to your entire realm. You couldn’t have used me like you say. You didn't _love_ me," Loki starts, suddenly lost and breathless, ignoring all of Asgard watching and hating him. "Don’t pretend you love me. You--"

"Stop," says Frigga gently. "Loki. Don't." She puts her hand on Loki's shoulder so that he knows (and everyone else knows) where her anger lies, and where her love does. Loki looks at her and nods, and puts himself at her back. Frigga says to Odin, "What peace would it ever bring to hold up a kidnapped infant and declare him king over a land that is not yours? That is no peace, but the sound of _war_ you make, Odin Allfather. And if the infant was abandoned as you say, your claim to peace and territory is even weaker than if he were wanted. Why would Jotunheim accept a disowned and forgotten puppet?

“You laid with our enemy and carried home the spoils, and you have cured us in shame and lies until all of Asgard is bitter with the brine. You’d call a child both your hope and your burden, but the sins are yours, _All-father,_ and your shame now falls to all of us." That plays well with the crowd, which is what Loki was hoping for, is still hoping for under his blinding fear. As Frigga falls silent, he says, so that only those closest to him can hear--Odin, and Frigga, and their companions--

"Tell me, father, is Fenrir enough of your visage for you to claim _him?"_

It is a mistake to let Volstagg hear this. Loki only hopes Odin attacks before Volstagg can work out why _he_ should--and Odin does.

He cries out in rage and raises his staff, throwing himself forward to strike Loki where he stands behind Frigga. To the crowd it will look as though he moves to strike their queen.

"Mother!" Tyr calls, at the same time Thor shouts, "No!"

Everyone watching can see Loki dart in front of Frigga as Tyr and Thor draw out a net. As it expands, they unfurl it between them, moving quickly and carefully to avoid touching it with their skin. It shines unnaturally in the air, sparking and cracking with Thor’s power; they cast their glittering net over the king of Asgard. Loki's eyes are huge, and whatever anyone else sees, _he_ cannot choose whether to focus on the way Odin staggers as the net saps his strength ( _Exactly right,_ Loki thinks, _exactly as it's meant to_ ) or on the look of fury on Odin’s face. When Odin’s eye catches Loki's, Loki’s breath stops.

Odin goes down on one knee. The cries from the crowd are only partly from alarm.

"Yes," Tony mutters under his breath as his handiwork does its job. The pieces are slotting into place perfectly; the mechanisms have held, melding to Odin’s body. For an instant, Tony doesn't feel ill.

Then Odin, with a great roar, struggles upright again. His staff is still in his hand. There is no one between him and Loki. Loki doesn't move at all, just stares at Odin like a nightmare. It's only a moment before Frigga reaches forward to pull him out of Odin's reach, but there's no way she can. Tyr and Thor look horrified, but they're struggling with the net, trying not to touch it themselves. Odin's staff is raised like a weapon, and Loki _won't move_.

Steve doesn't like the guy, and he doesn't have to. Odin is a violent, terrible bully, and if their plan fails, Odin's violence will not end simply because he has murdered his child. So Steve starts to move the instant Loki freezes. He can't even see if anyone else is moving with him. He practically flies across the parade ground and up the steps, and as Odin rises, Steve hurls his shield.

Odin staggers; Steve throws himself at his back. He drags the net down over the head of the king of the gods. The net touches Steve’s bare face and neck. It feels like the life is being ripped out of him in threads. 

He thinks, Loki and Tony _do_ make a good team.

Tony yells, "No!" but he's much too late. He doesn't know what the net will do to Steve, but before he can do anything about it, Odin is truly falling.

The crowd is still shocked, still shouting or murmuring, but Odin has gone silent. He sags sideways slowly under Steve's weight and the force of the net, looking almost unreal, until he is lying prone on the ground. His eyes slowly shut.

Steve rolls aside and staggers against a pillar. He looks strange from a distance. Smaller, somehow, but maybe that's only in proportion to Odin and his children.

Loki says, "Captain Rogers, what did you do?" He's pale and panting.

"That was your plan, wasn't it?" Steve asks, breathless.

" _You_ weren't," Loki says, and he sounds horrified about something Steve can't work out.

"Steve!" Thor says. "You should not have--Are you well?" He tries to keep the distress from his voice. They were so close to getting out of this with no casualties.

"Shit," Tony says. He elbows Thor and Tyr out of the way and rushes over to Steve. " _Shit._."

Frigga steps forward, brushing her hand across Loki's face as she passes him.

"Odin sleeps," she tells the crowd. "I am queen and I will remain queen. I will bring you peace with the Norns and peace with the Jotuns and I will bring peace to Asgard. I would sacrifice for this, and I will suffer, but also I will rule. See now who Heimdall honors as his sovereign, and let him say if your queen and her children have given you lies. Ask freely. This day is terrible enough unstained by doubt."

The crowd does not know how to react.

"I hope Heimdall hurries," Tyr mutters, "or we'll have a riot on our hands."

"No," Victor says distractedly, "I think not. The ruled are always cowed enough by their rulers, no matter how kind, to wait and see where the chips fall." He never takes his eyes off Loki as he speaks, though. Loki, who nearly died, just now, in front of him. Loki, who is limping.

There's no need to wait long; Heimdall has clearly been making his way into the city for some minutes. He cuts his way through the crowds easily, although at least once someone moves to hold him back. He ascends to the palace porch and says, "My queen."

"Heimdall, tell me," Frigga says dreadfully, "who rules Asgard now?"

"You do," says Heimdall calmly.

"And who commands you?"

"You do."

"And if you were granted a choice in your allegiance," Frigga asks, enunciating with terrible care, "whom would your chosen master be?"

"My lady," Heimdall says. "I have served Odin many years and I have seen his deeds. I have seen yours, also, which are less commonly attended. I have also seen your children, the strong and the good-willed and the clever and the broken. Above all these and any other, I choose Frigga."

She bows her head, and Heimdall kneels. All of her entourage, the whole revolution, kneels after him. It catches the audience by surprise, and they find themselves kneeling before Frigga as she stands, stern and tall and dressed in grey, before the fallen body of their king.

After a long moment, Victor raises his hand. "Long live the queen!" he shouts, and his voice rings out over the crowd. He doubts they use this blessing in a land in which long life is almost assured, but he doesn't care.

There's some muttering in the crowd over this, but someone among Tyr's men takes it up, and it is a general, so all his men follow suit. Soon the parade ground is ringing with sound, and Frigga stands at the center of it, the calm at the eye. When it fades a little, she says, "Heimdall! Send Hogun the Grim to Nornheim that he may barter a new peace with Karnilla." Heimdall nods and leaves, and the crowd, after a moment’s still-bewildered hesitation, cheers. 

Loki slips over to where the Midgardians are standing, ignoring Victor as completely as he can, and says, "Come along, Barton. We have quick work to do." Clint nods, and they vanish out of the back of their small crowd.

"I'll have my men move our father to somewhere he may sleep more comfortably," Tyr is saying over the slightly more pleased sounds in the crowd, his mouth twisting. "But only with heavy gloves."

"Well, I ain't doing it," Bucky says, breaking rank and throwing down his helmet. Tyr steps aside, startled. He'd nearly forgotten Bucky was there.

Bucky slips between the Asgardian soldiers from which he was indistinguishable a moment ago and joins Tony at Steve's side.

"Hey, you," he says. He turns to Tony. "We need to get him out of here."

Frigga takes in the various commotions around her and has to fight the temptation to roll her eyes. "Tyr," she says. "You and your men bring Odin to his chamber. Let the net lie on him and let no one enter. Sif: take Thor's companions into the palace. They have endangered themselves and come to hurt for our sake. They will be repaid with our aid." Sif nods, and collects all of the Avengers, but Frigga halts Victor. "You will attend us," she says softly, "for now." To the crowd she calls, "All Asgard will show mourning for two days for the fall of their king. Observe this."

She gestures, then, for Tyr to command his men and for the remainder to follow her. She brings them, and Victor's army, into the palace. The crowd she leave behind with a small number of Tyr's troops, Fandral, and Volstagg. What the people do now is a worrying question, except that she thinks she knows much of the answer.

Victor frowns and follow Frigga, looking around for Loki. Loki, of course, is nowhere to be seen. Victor follows at Frigga's heels and wonders if asking her about it will be useless.

For now, as he packs away his army, he says, "Will Captain America be all right? Do you have any idea what such a device might do to mortals?"

The queen frowns. "I have no idea," she says. "I did not build it. I imagine Loki was behind such a cunning little construct?" She stops and turns, her attendants crowding around her. "You and I will speak about Loki," she says. "Soon, and alone."

Victor is surprised, but pleasantly. He is suddenly very much aware that he's talking to his partner's mother.

"I would enjoy that, my lady," he says, inclining his head.

"Let us hope so," says Frigga. "First, let's see to your friend." She hurries over to where Tony and Bucky are huddled around Steve.

"I think it is good that you did not touch that net for any longer," she says. "Come, we'll to a good room where there is quiet and a bed. You are very brave," she says to Steve. "Let's put you to bed, and not give you the brave man's reward for bravery."

"I've got him," Tony says. He's very pale, but he doesn't hesitate. He just lifts Steve, the armor making it easy, and cradles him. "Where to?"

"I could have--" Bucky starts. "No, forget it. Let's just--God."

Steve says, muddled, "This isn't--dignity. Why are you...? I'm all right," and Frigga bends down to pat his cheek.

"Hush," she says. "You are hurt, and you'll rest. For now, do not expend your energy."

She leads them and her attendants to a large, unoccupied bedchamber containing a large, unoccupied bed.


	30. clint has an arrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "And how do you hope to achieve this?" Balder asks, following Loki's slow retreat, driving him back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: character death, ref to past rape/incest

Loki brings himself and Clint to the cliffs that face Nornheim's palace.

"Can you see?" he asks. "Three windows down and four from the left, with the stone balcony. Those are Balder's chambers. If I bring him out, can you hit him, even if I half-obscure him? A strike to the chest, no limbs or eyes."

Clint takes it all in and nods quickly. His heart is racing. Actual gods! Actual other worlds! Actual horrible danger! "Yeah, that would be easy. I could do it through the window, if you really needed, but of course the balcony will be better. How close are you planning to _get?"_

"Close," says Loki. "Give me the arrows."

"Bossy," Clint mutters, but he does it. "Are you--No, go on, just go for it."

Loki ignores Clint's chatter. He sticks one of the arrows under his arm, and runs his fingers along the other. A thin, sticking-cold layer of ice grows up around the wood under his touch. When all but the fletching is encased, he carefully sets it back into Clint's quiver. He ices the second arrow as well, and says, "Don't fire until I signal you."

Clint shivers, mostly because he's completely and sincerely _creeped out._ "What's the signal?" he asks. They're on a tight schedule here, so he's not going to waste time on too much that isn't business.

"Well," says Loki, "either I'll turn to face you or he'll be killing me. So either of those is the signal, really."

"Fuck," Clint says, startled. He should have been expecting that, but--"Okay," he says. "I'm ready. Go do your thing. And hey, Loki? Don't die. Some of my friends really like you."

Loki doesn't answer. He just walks away until he's not there.

Clint gets himself into position, eyes on the balcony, and waits.

~

The third time Loki appears, it only takes a moment for Balder to realize that he isn't mad at all. Tired, perhaps, but--

"Hello, brother," Loki says. His voice is even and he doesn't shake, and his eyes are fixed on Balder with something worse than madness: not as if Balder is a predator, or a friend, or a lover, but as though he's prey. Loki is looking at him like the kind of prey that cannot fail to be caught.

Balder gets immediately to his feet. This time there is no sword or bow, no weapon at all within his reach. "What now?" he asks. "What could possibly bring you back to my kingdom?" He cannot see yet whether or not Loki is limping.

Loki says, "Balder the Bright, you are so like your father."

"What do you mean?" Balder asks warily. "Like Odin? Of course I am. Not as much like as Thor or Tyr, but..."

"Oh, more than they," Loki says. He is standing near the balcony door with his arms crossed. "You are proud, Balder, you and he, so full of your own wisdom that you do not curse it when it is what fails you. You are liars and cowards in the guise of kings." He smiles, full of quiet malice. "You have much to learn in some regards, of course. When _he_ put me in my place, I bore the lesson in Fenrir; all you did was get out of my sight."

Balder does not go pale, though well he might. "You call to the monsters in us all," he says softly. "If Tyr did not hurt you, it was because he didn't have the chance. If Thor did not--and I think he did--he may yet."

"What is most alike in you," Loki says, ignoring what is blatantly untrue, "is that you are toppled kings, Balder. You are fallen, and you will endure on the edge of extinction until Ragnarok, while your wives rule from your thrones."

Balder knows he should ignore the barb Loki has used before, but it's difficult. Still, he forces himself to say instead, "This is madness. Father rules Asgard with help from no others."

"You think I'm baiting you," Loki observes. Balder notices that the door to the balcony is a little bit ajar behind him. "Fair enough. I have before. But there is no presumption in this, Balder. Our father is no longer king of Asgard. Our mother takes his seat. She is beloved, and she knows how to buy peace. And she knows, Balder," he says carefully, "what you did to me."

Of all the things Loki could take or pretend to take from Balder, this is the worst.

"No!" he cries. Mother has always been his ally when all others failed. He advances on Loki, just wanting him out. He considers the balcony.

"You have shrunk it down to a small thing best forgotten," Loki says, low and fast and unforgiving, "but Frigga is mother above all, Balder, and her anger is not small when her children are hurt. Your protector has no love left in her for what you have become." Loki edges towards the door as he speaks. "I came here to discover if there was anything in you yet worth preserving, my dear little brother," he says. "And I did not find a scrap. Your rule is over."

"And how do you hope to achieve this?" Balder asks, following Loki's slow retreat, driving him back. "Even if Mother is queen, she would never attack the king of Nornheim. And I _am_ king. Put your jealousy of _that_ aside if you can, you snake."

Loki stops with his back against the balcony door. "Mother does not have to attack any such person," he says. "Your queen has no reason to love you. And Frigga will give her what our father never would--peace without a husband. A peace, Balder, that has just been brokered. But you wouldn't know that. You never go to the throne room but to sulk."

"You vicious little _monster_ ," Balder snarls, lunging forward. Loki steps back through the doorway, onto the balcony. "You would undo the lives of all your family for the sake of some petty revenge? It's true, the things they said about you. Freak. Witch." Balder follows Loki onto the balcony and wonders if Loki's magic would help him survive a fall. Then he sees Loki’s face.

Loki looks at him unpityingly. He does not look afraid. It's the first time in memory, Balder realizes, that he has seen Loki unafraid. He looks as though he knows everything, as though the cat has seen the inevitable unfolding of his hunt and there is no revolt from the mouse that can make him cringe. Loki is not supposed to have foresight. 

Loki looks at him like that, and then he dares to turn away.

There is a silence. Then, it is broken by the sound of an arrow flying.

When the arrow strikes his chest, Balder staggers backwards against the half-open balcony door. He does not even cry out, only grunts and gropes at the door behind him. The arrow, and the ice encasing it, have found their mark.

Loki doesn't turn around. "You are a dead man," he says quietly. "If you pull that arrow from your chest you will crack the ice and the holly will touch you, and you will die. If you let it be, the ice will melt, and the holly will touch you, and you will die. You are a dead man, Balder, son of Odin." It isn't a threat or a promise, but a current fact. For once Loki doesn't have to amend or bargain, because there is nothing for Balder to do. At the worst, they _both_ die--but no matter what he does now, Balder is dead.

"Do something," Balder gasps.

But he knows in the face of everything between them that the plea is useless. If he is anything good, he is still brave in the face of death. If Loki will not help him, he decides, so be it.

Loki turns around then, and the pity Balder does not want does not even threaten to arise. Loki touches Balder's chest, the arrow's shaft rising between his thumb and forefinger. He says, "I've done what I've done. I've killed you. All I can do now is refuse to let you die." His expression changes into something distantly resembling a smile. "You'll be a bargaining chip for the Jotuns, Balder. Are you not proud at the peace your death will bring?"

Before Balder can answer, ice swallows him up.

From his hiding place, Clint waves at Loki's back. "Loki!” he calls. “You done? Are we getting out of here? Because I would _love_ to get out of here."

Loki turns to answer, but Hogun and Karnilla come through Balder's door in a cloud of attendants.

"Oh," says Loki. "I hope you've decided you don't need him." He speaks to Karnilla, and gestures vaguely at the figure on the floor.

Karnilla raises her eyebrows. "This was not quite what I was expecting," she says evenly. "Although you're not wrong. I decided that, and some time ago. Is he--?"

"Not until he thaws," Loki says. "Better not to do that, though. Sometimes, the mortals tell us, his death brings Ragnarok."

Karnilla laughs sharply, efficiently pleased. "Horrible. That is well. It would seem you've had a success, then."

"By which you profit," says Loki. "Yes." He smiles tightly. "I wonder, Karnilla, if you ever regret my failure. If I'd been a little less desperate I could have stopped your wedding. Perhaps you would not have had peace, but you wouldn't have had Balder, either."

Karnilla does not laugh at this, she only regards him with her piercing eyes. "Balder was a good king, in his way. A good king for me to have."

"He would not have stayed so," Loki tells her. "He would have stewed in resentment at his little power until he reared up and stung you like a serpent." He shrugs. "How strong his venom I couldn't guess."

"Couldn't you?" Karnilla asks. "But no matter. He's as good as dead now, and we'll use that as we may to brighten both our realms." She looks at him, not really with distaste, but with indifference.

"May it bring you brightness," Loki says tiredly. "Hogun--?"

Hogun bows, a little jerk of his head. "Loki." Loki looks as though he's barely keeping himself upright. Hogun is happy to help.

"Balder must go to the treasure room until Frigga goes to Jotunheim. We can all go by the Bifrost now. Can you bear him?"

"Yes," Hogun says. He can't convey his support of Loki in just one word, perhaps, but he can be steadfast and allow Loki to escape to somewhere more peaceful as soon as possible. He bends and takes up Balder, making sure to give the arrow a wide berth.

Loki leans out over the balcony rail and calls, "Barton! Can you get down to there?" He points at a spot at the base of the cliff. "If you cannot get down without dying, I can fetch you, of course," he adds.

"Uh, no, I've got it!" Clint calls. It's not that he doesn't trust Loki--exactly. He's just more comfortable making his own way down. "Give me just a sec!" he shouts. He has a grappling arrow, anyway.

Loki waves and turns from the window. "We'll go, then," he says, running a critical eye over the ice that encases Balder. His eye falls to Hogun, too; whatever he finds there, he flees from it.

They make their way to the base of the cliff, Clint arriving not long after the others.

"Grappling arrow," he says cheerfully.

Hogun is breathing heavily under Balder's weight, but he says nothing, just looks to Loki.

Loki looks up at the sky. "Heimdall," he says quietly. "We are here now."

The Bifrost brings them home almost instantly. Heimdall must have been watching.

When they find their footing in Asgard, Hogun sets Balder's still body gently on the Bifrost. "The treasure room," he promises. "But first, this."

Loki takes half a step back. "First what?" he says, aware that Heimdall and Clint are watching, but not knowing _what_ they are watching.

"A hug," Hogun mutters, because given the day Loki has had, he probably deserves fair warning. He also deserves _this._ Hogun tugs Loki into a tight, efficient hug.

Loki makes a surprised little sound, and he's very still; but his hands finally hover against Hogun's back. "We are not--friends," he says, hesitant. Asking?

"We were not," Hogun says. "But now..." He gives Loki an encouraging squeeze. "A new start," he suggests.

Loki looks bewildered. "I don't think I understand why," he says. "If I do, it is not so good."

Hogun shrugs uncomfortably, letting go a little. "I liked you before," he says. Not trusted, but liked. "I was cruel not to speak then." This isn't the entire explanation, but perhaps it's enough.

Loki pulls away, and looks in the one direction that seems to have no one in it. "You," Loki says, "were the least cruelty in a world of them. I won't call you friend, Hogun." He glances up. "But I'll entertain the notion."

Hogun gives Loki his smallest smile, which is more than he gives most people. "Thank you," he says. He bends to lift Balder again, satisfied.

Loki walks with Hogun to the treasure room, neglecting to say goodbye to Heimdall and ignoring Clint, who's trailing wide-eyed behind them.

"Here," he says at last, opening a small chamber from a nearly invisible door.

Hogun carefully maneuvers Balder through the door and rests him upright against one of the walls, tucked neatly between two old relics.

Hogun rubs his hands together. They're cold, even with his gloves. Somehow, he feels as if this reflects more on Balder than on Loki.

Loki steps past Hogun to put a hand on Balder's chest. The tremor as he does lasts only a moment, and the frost creeps over Balder cold and hard and clinging. Balder's skin looks blue beneath the ice--but not as blue as Loki's.

Loki catches himself staring at Balder only a second or two after Hogun does. He turns away from the near-corpse he has made of his brother. "So that is done," he says, too casually.

He leads them out of the treasure room and into the palace as though it's nowhere he's ever lost or ever wished to lose. He leads them to the parlor that is currently haunted by Frigga's attendants as though he's a child again, and nothing of substance shadows his steps.


	31. victor and frigga have the talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wants to tell her how easy it is to love Loki, even if Loki is never easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: talk of killing your family members, vengeance, and kink.

Frigga leaves Steve in the hands of her doctors, Tony and Bucky hovering at the periphery. The other Avengers she tucks in a parlor with Fandral, Volstagg and Sif. She leads Victor into a smaller parlor and shuts her attendants on the other side of the door. Then she turns to Victor and says, "Now we catch a moment to speak to one another," and smiles at him really very beautifully.

Victor is taken entirely off guard by the entire situation. He didn't expect the queen to be either this kind or this clever.

"We haven't even been introduced," he says haltingly, his anger at Loki drawing back temporarily to make way for discomfort. "I'm sure you know who I am, though." He extends his hand. "Victor von Doom. Loki's..." _Boyfriend? Partner?_ This is absurd and he has no word. _Loki's_ will do.

But, "Lover," Frigga finishes for him gently. "And friend too, I think, which does not go without saying, though it ought to. He told me I wouldn't like you, you know."

Victor is even more thrown. "I--Perhaps he was wrong." He frowns. "My lady, where is Loki now? Should we be looking for him? And he’s limping, I don’t know why. Whatever it was, he kept it from me."

Frigga says, "I know where he is and I know what happened. There’s no need to go looking for him, either--he isn’t alone. Hold your question until he returns to the palace, kindly, and I am sure he'll tell you then." She smiles. "He is not as good at keeping secrets when his loved ones ask questions outright."

"I had noticed," Victor says dryly, looking around as if to indicate the situation they've found themselves in. "I'll ask him, then. But I'm _not_ pleased. This day was hard enough without him going in injured and then nearly getting himself killed again before running off to wherever he's gone now."

"Ah," says Frigga unrevealingly, "indeed. Victor, I understand you're something of a brutal man."

Victor wishes he did not have such profound respect for mothers. It makes this conversation even more unnerving. "I am," he says. "I am a king."

"I have, as you see," Frigga says, "known brutal men and kings. Perhaps it's this which Loki thinks I'll hate in you? But he’s wrong; I've known _enough_ brutal men and kings. Nonetheless, I wonder what you want from Loki at all. Novelty, for a mortal, perhaps. Power, if you're clever as he says."

Victor hesitates. He is quite aware that lying to this woman will be no fruit he wishes to harvest. "When I took him in, I wanted those things. Yes."

"And what do you want from my child now?" she asks.

"I want Loki," Victor says. "Loki, and the things Loki is."

Frigga says, "You must be very proud of him today."

Victor's breath catches. "I--I am. Proud of him, and afraid for him. And it follows that I'm also very angry with him."

"Ah," says Frigga. "I am very angry myself. I didn't know if he would survive the blow Odin would have dealt him."

Victor nods violently. "If he cannot yet be taught to value himself, he must stop putting himself in harm's way for the sake of others who value him. I thought I might lose him today. This whole coup was nearly a terrible mistake."

Frigga's mouth flattens into a line. She says, "He has always put his hand too close to the fire." She stands, quickly. "I am sorry. He is in Nornheim, killing his youngest brother."

"What?" Victor barks. "No! Damn it, that man is dangerous, and Loki's mind is hardly in a place for-- _damn it!"_ He has nothing to strike out at, so he makes himself take a breath.

"Your son," he says. "Killing your son."

"Balder is my son after all," Frigga agrees. "Though I wish I could disown him. All I can do is let Loki destroy him. Victor," she says, "how could I not let him go? He barely wanted the rest of this, you must have realized."

"Of course I know," Victor says. "Thor wanted it, and Asgard needed it, and Loki chose. But if Loki dies for it--I’ll never forgive any of you.” Victor’s lack of forgiveness is the most terrible threat he can make. He knows himself, his own dogged ruthlessness. He’ll hound every one of Loki’s family, every one of the Avengers, until they have nothing left to pay.

"Die killing Balder?" Frigga asks. "Loki will not die, although I don’t doubt it will hurt. But I couldn't have forbidden him going regardless of the cost. We are not a people to let our injuries go unrectified, or to let our villains live. Balder left him desolate. I could not tell Loki no. And I carry the selfish wish that Balder be dead."

Victor shivers. "The members of this family are all greater and more terrible than I could have imagined," he says. "Will I be able to bring my Loki home unhurt enough that he may be restored to health? I ask little more."

"I think," Frigga says, "that if he has not done anything spectacularly rash in Nornheim, he will, when he returns, be little worse for the wear."

"Small comfort," Victor says coldly. "Why would he hide his injury from me? Never mind--I'm not a fool. I can see why. But I still want to shake him."

"Be careful what you say to me; if you make yourself dangerous you might never go home," Frigga says kindly.

Victor curses under his breath. "I apologize," he says. "I meant no threat. I would never hurt Loki--" He thinks of ways in which to qualify that, about consent and request and safety, but he can't say that to Loki's _mother._ "I would never be what others in his life have been," he amends.

"Good," says Frigga. "If you were I would kill you."

Victor nods. "And rightly so. I--Loki has good people in his family. I didn't know that before getting to know Thor. And now you and Tyr."

Frigga looks resigned. "I suppose he made it seem like all of us were awful beasts?" she asks with a smile.

"For a while, yes," Victor says. "He has some things to work through, I'll grant you that. But he's worth all of it."

"Oh, I know he is," Frigga says. She softens. "I'm glad that you do as well."

Victor smiles and wishes she could see it. "He means more to me than I can comfortably express."

"You can have no idea," Frigga says, "how long ago I gave up my belief that anyone would ever say something like that for him. Not all of my hope. But my belief."

Victor is silent. "Oh," he says softly, after a moment. He wants to tell her how easy it is to love Loki, even if Loki is never easy. He wants to tell her he never saw Loki as a lost cause to be taken up. He thinks she knows these things, though, or he wouldn't be here.

Frigga says, "Loki cares for you, too, Victor." She regards him seriously. "When he fell I begged the fates for it to save him. Asgard has been his poison since Odin brought him here. I lose one son forever, today; it does not seem so impossible, now, that I not lose Loki as well. It would give me peace to know, if you can call yourself his safety."

Victor bows his head. This is a ruler and a parent he can respect without reservation. "I would do anything to keep Loki safe," he says. He is not yet ready to say he would do anything for Loki, but he can say this.

Frigga says, "I believe you would." She smiles. "Just don't blame yourself, if you cannot always keep him out of the trouble he makes for himself."

Victor relaxes a fraction. "At this point," he says, "I'll just be grateful to be able to take him home in one piece."

"We'll know soon how it's gone with Balder," Frigga says, less happily. "That, you may be assured, was _not_ my plan. But it is very clever and very useful, and I'm afraid Loki knows me too well, and knows what I'll suffer for the right reward."

"I only hope he hasn't overestimated--" Victor begins.

There's a bit of noise outside, and then the door opens and Loki leans into the room. Clint and Hogun are behind him.

"Mother," he says. He looks and sounds tired. "Where did you put the Avengers? This one wants to be added to them."


	32. loki and victor reach a conclusion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Loki," Victor says. "Tell me what you need."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: talk of death and rape, victim blaming, trauma

" _Loki,_ " Victor says fiercely. He strides across the room and stops just in front of Loki. He's breathing too fast.

"I'll bring him where he needs to go," Frigga tells Loki. She takes the door to step past him, although she leans over to kiss his cheek on her way.

"Don't make a liar of yourself," she says to Victor. "And don't forget where you are." She doesn't wait for an answer, though, only turns away and ushers Clint off down the hall. Hogun follows.

Loki is left leaning in the doorway, looking at Victor.

Victor tries to say something and stops. Nothing will do for how angry and scared he was. Instead, he pulls Loki into his arms and clutches him against his chest.

Loki doesn't react, or even hug him back, but Victor can feels his quick little breaths against his ribs. Victor pulls back and looks at him. 

"You're hurt," he says. "You've been hurt for some time. And you nearly died again today. And now you've come from Balder. _Are you all right?"_

Loki shuts the door behind them and says, "I don't know, Victor, how do you _want_ me to answer?"

"With the truth, if you can give that without it hurting you further," Victor says. "Or rather, I want to know how to help you be all right, if you're not."

Loki gives him a stumped, not very pretty look. 

"Oh, Victor," he says. "I've spoiled you. I was too nice for a day or two and now you're awful and clingy." He limps past Victor and falls into a chair with a sigh.

Victor whirls on him. "You were _hurt._ I don't know how badly. And you _kept it from me._ I could kill you."

"I doubt Frigga would appreciate that," Loki says. He leans back and shuts his eyes to slits.

Victor is silent. Then he walks to Loki's side and kneels by him. "You need sleep," he says. "Whatever else, that should come first." He could ask about Balder, but clearly Loki is alive, so that is enough for now.

"Oh, I don't know if I can do that," Loki says, and something changes in his voice that is instantly a warning. "I gave all my sleep to my father and my brother. They'll keep drawing it up like poison until the world ends, you know. Why should I ever sleep again?"

Victor is reminded who Loki is. This coup has not changed him. _Good_.

"I have other ways of keeping you occupied, then," Victor says. He only means it if Loki wants it, but he has to keep Loki together.

" _Occupied,"_ Loki says, voice rough. His nails dig lightly into the arms of his chair.

Victor leans up and grabs Loki's collar. "We have had," he says slowly, "a long day. And now I'm taking you home."

Loki's eyes snap open. "What, Victor--and leave without seeing your stepchildren? Sleipnir is stabled on the very palace grounds! Even Fenrir isn't so far!"

"Perhaps on another occasion," Victor says dryly. In truth, there are many things in Asgard he'd like to see. But this is not the time.

Loki takes Victor's wrists as though he's about to shove him away, but he doesn't. He sits there, vice-gripped and shaking and staring at Victor in a gross muddle of ways.

"It was an arrow," he says. "Balder's arrow."

Victor takes a sharp breath. "How long?" he asks. "No, never mind. I know. The night you sent me the magpie. You've been going to Balder?"

"Only twice," Loki says. "And he only shot me once. I _thought_ he would try to fuck me, but he wouldn’t."

Victor flinches, horrified and angry. "Is he dead now?" he demands.

"Yes," Loki says. "No."

Details can wait. "Your mother has made me less angry about the risks you've taken," Victor says, instead of asking the questions he wants to ask. "But I wish you hadn't lied to me about being hurt."

"You would have tried to put a stop to everything," Loki says. "I told you, didn't I? I told you I'd betray you if you didn't fit the plan."

Victor files away the knowledge that Loki sees the lie as a betrayal. It's...comforting. "I respect that," he says. "Unfortunately, I also care for you. Which makes things difficult."

"It doesn't matter now," Loki says. "I don't have anyone left to kill." That's not true, but he's done for the only ones he'd choose to bother with.

"Which is why you deserve to rest," Victor suggests. He gets to his feet. "Come, Loki. This has been a bad day, even if we succeeded in our plan."

"I am sick of people," Loki says. "I'm sick of company and coddling. I wonder if I can have a moment's peace without steering or being steered by _anybody."_

Victor steps back. "If you'd rather, I can go and see what Rogers has done to himself. If you're home when I return, so be it. If you're elsewhere, I know you'll be home eventually. Yes?"

"Yes, go see to them," Loki says, a little nastily. "I promise not to hunt down any more unpleasant little brothers to bait."

"Loki," Victor says. "Tell me what you need."

Loki can't find his words for several long seconds. Not his wants, either, but the words aren't even there to lie for him.

"Everything is a raw wound," he whispers. "Why did Thor want this? To satisfy his guilt? To make me safe? Victor, I _killed him._ I used an arrow," he laughs, ugly and damp. "I only decided after he shot me. An act of retaliatory poetics. But I don't feel safer now. Why don't I feel safe, Victor? What did I do wrong?"

Victor puts his fingers gently in Loki's hair. "You did nothing wrong. They did everything. Why should you feel safer now than when you were living in Midgard and it was already in the past? Thor wouldn't understand that, though. Nor would I, really."

Loki shuts his eyes and leans against Victor's hand. "I went to see Balder so that he wouldn't defend himself this last time. I thought if I went and begged for his love, he would pretend he'd never touched me. I thought he would be patronizing. Deluded. That he'd lower his defenses. That perhaps he’d regret it. He could have been good. I thought I might not--" He catches himself and shrugs. "But it wasn't like that. He called it rape and he told me I deserved it, and then he shot me, after he told me I could go. He is exactly as vile as--what he did. The best man in all Asgard is a violent, incestuous thug." He swipes a hand across his face. "Is it terrible that I hoped it would be my fault after all?"

Victor forces himself not to clench his fist in Loki's hair. "Yes," he says. "It's terrible, but not in a way that's your fault." He strokes Loki's hair a few times. "Perhaps Asgard will find other heroes. Ones worth their worship."

"They ought to worship their queen, now," Loki sighs. He looks up. "I'm sorry, Victor. I'm so tired. We can go home if you want."

"Yes," Victor says, relieved. "Let's do that, my dear." He offers Loki his arm.

Loki pulls himself upright, putting more weight on Victor's arm than he normally would. He doesn't move toward the door, though; he catches Victor's elbow and falls against him. "What terrible things I've been asking you to do," he murmurs.

"I don't know what you mean," Victor says, holding him up.

"Oh," says Loki, shrugging. "I've made friends of your enemies, made you second-in-command to a puppyish prince, made you resent the mask that comforts you. I've made you worry."

"The last, I may not forgive quickly," Victor says, but he says it gently. "You've also shown me Asgard and lived through your revenge. You've made up for it."

Loki makes a little hiccup of a sound, but he hides it against Victor's chest. What it means is left a mystery.

"Perhaps we might come back to Asgard on another day," Loki says. "Let's leave, shall we? And not tell anyone."

"Gladly," Victor whispers. "Can you take us to my castle? Or are you too tired?"

"Victor, Victor," Loki says, made of unapologetic bravado and some measure of something better, "I did say _home."_

That is where they go, because he has enough strength.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> END OF PART FOUR.
> 
> TBC in _Hapless Queer Avengers and the Blue-Eyed Monster._

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Three Times Loki Couldn't Keep A Secret](https://archiveofourown.org/works/397596) by [bluestalking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluestalking/pseuds/bluestalking)




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